


Operant Conditioning

by bunnymaccool, notjustmom, Starbucks_ed (Thorki_ed)



Series: Operant Conditioning [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: ... probably, Abuse, Angst, Blood, Coercion, Eating Disorders, F/M, Graphic Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, M/M, Mentions of Feeding Tubes, Nudity, PTSD, Stucky AU Big Bang, THE SEQUEL WILL BE BETTER, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-06 20:44:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17946803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnymaccool/pseuds/bunnymaccool, https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorki_ed/pseuds/Starbucks_ed
Summary: It starts with a phone call Steve can’t really remember even though it happened a mere two minutes ago - just a lot of “WHAT?” and “I DON’T KNOWs” being thrown around. Anyway, it’s pretty easy to lose track of words when you’re as distracted as Steve is right now.__________________________Steve finds Bucky bleeding in his apartment, but can't get a word out of him. Somewhere down the line, Bucky realizes Steve isn't a Handler but... dare he say it, a friend? The Avengers work to help Bucky through his PTSD, to enlist him as an Avenger instead.





	Operant Conditioning

**Author's Note:**

> SOME HUGE THANK YOU's BEFORE WE GET STARTED: 
> 
> First, to [bunnymaccool](http://www.bunnymaccool.tumblr.com) for collaborating with me, and providing such beautiful artwork. You make the words come alive, and it filled me with joy to hear that my work had been chosen. Thank you for the hours you dedicated to this. Please find more on tumblr via the link!
> 
> Secondly, I couldn't have done this without my beta, [notjustmom](http://www.notjustmom.tumblr.com). Thank you for your patience (limitless, really, with my dumb ass). You really had your work cut out for you! Thank you for the late nights editing away. Please find her on tumblr: http://notjustamumj.tumblr.com/
> 
> And of course, thank you to the community! For everyone who was on Slack, you made it enjoyable and funny every step of the way. Huuuuuuuuge shout out to the [MODS!!](http://www.stuckyaubang.tumblr.com). It's never easy to organize something as huge as this and we are all greatly appreciative of your dedication. Thanks for making my first Big Bang so much fun! If you have time, please check out the other works in the collection for all the hard work everyone put in!

****Steve has to admit he’s pretty fond of the “future-y things” that Stark’s shown him so far. The Stark phone was a bit much at first, but as Steve’s ears fills with the lull of the soft jazz playing through his earphones, he knows that he’s lost the battle to “new-fangled technology”. He opens the door to his small apartment, humming softly to the music that calms him down after his runs. He’d tried to fall asleep, really, but tossing and turning at midnight always results in him blowing off steam through running. He closes the door behind him, removing his earphones and flicks on the light in the small foyer before almost dropping said phone.

“WHAT THE -”

Steve’s frozen in place at the sight in front of him. _It can’t be…_

Oh, but it is. That’s the face of his long-time best friend. It’s also the face of a wanted criminal and fugitive.

“Bucky?” Steve calls softly. He knows the man sitting in the wooden chair can hear and see him, but his eyes are staring at a spot somewhere over Steve’s shoulder. “Buck? What… What happened?”

He’s realizing now that Bucky’s eyes have never looked so empty. His hair is disturbingly messy and - god, the blood. _Drip, drip, drip._ The pooling on his carpet suggested Bucky has been here a while. Steve swallows thickly.

“Are you okay?” He tries again, hoping Bucky would tell him something - _anything._ The last time they saw each other, they’d beaten each other like it was their job (it sort of was), leaving Steve a bloody pulp. On top of that, there’d been an incident of nearly drowning, but beyond that, Steve knew, deep down, Bucky had saved him. Hauled him to the shore and made sure he would be found. He is positive, even though everyone thinks he made it to shore himself - but how could you, if you were out cold? Steve’s brain finally catches up after a moment of silence.

“You remember me, don’t you?” Bucky’s eyes flicker for a brief second, but as soon as he makes eye contact, it’s gone and he’s staring over Steve’s shoulder again. Steve takes it as a sign. He’s not very good with interpreting what’s happening right now, but he knows it means Bucky remembers him, or at least some parts of him.

“My name is Steve Rogers, we were friends,” he says, feeling almost silly for the introduction. So much history between them, and now he has to act like a stranger, it’s almost too much to bear.

“You were the only friend I had,” he presses, “and you looked out for me a lot. Took care of me.”

There’s no sign of recognition, but no sign of shit going sideways either. Bucky’s in pretty much the exact same clothing as the last time Steve saw him, outfitted in black HYDRA-engineered combat gear,  but there is a new black face mask in place. The glove over his metal hand is shredded, and the black cargo pants are tapered to his body, straps and pockets allowing him to conceal god knows how many weapons.

_Drip, drip, drip._

Steve takes his phone out of his pocket and with his eyes on Bucky the whole time, he makes the call to Tony that sets everything in motion.

* * *

 

“Bucky?”

Silence.

Steve knows that Bucky’s aware, of course, the way Bucky’s wide eyes are following him and calculating every move while still avoiding direct eye contact. He’s purposely slowing down everything he’s doing for Bucky’s benefit. He’s anxious that Bucky’s not speaking, doesn’t know what that means for his friend, but for the most part, he’s relieved because Bucky (1) hasn’t tried to kill him and (2) hasn’t destroyed anything minus the window frame he’d used to break in. He’s also pretty worried though because (A) Bucky hasn’t moved since Steve got home fifteen minutes ago and (B) is still bleeding all over Steven’s carpet and there’s more blood on his clothing that humanly possible for him to still be conscious. Steven knows, rationally, that it means most of it probably doesn’t belong to him, but he’s trying really hard not to think about that too much at the moment. He calls Sam.

“ _Steve, it’s… Like, quarter to two man-”_

“He’s here.” Steve swallows thickly because that’s all that he can get out. There’s barely a heartbeat.

“ _He? Who… Shit, okay, I’ll be right there.”_ Steve hears the cracking of the wood under Bucky’s left hand and doesn’t need to think about what that indicates.

“Wait, Sam.”

“ _What do you mean ‘wait’?_ ” is Sam’s response, even though Steve hears the rustling in the background stop, which means Sam has at least paused just like he’s asked.

“I think… I think he’s a little spooked,” Steve says quietly, though Bucky could probably hear him no matter how low he whispered. Bucky remains motionless, though there’s a small whirring noise when he flexes the fingers in his metal hand. “Could you… Could you do me a favour and just see what Tony’s up to? I called him but to be honest, I was a bit too distracted to listen.”

“ _You called him before you called me? I’m hurt_ ,” Sam mocks, but the rustling picks up so he expects he’ll see Sam shortly.

“Sam, it’s 1:45 AM.” Steve responds in a light voice, though he knows he’s deeply grateful for Sam’s friendship. He hears a chuckle on the line before Sam assures him he’ll take care of things and tells him to take care of Bucky. _Deeply, deeply grateful._ He trusts Sam, and turns his undivided attention to Bucky.

He walks slowly towards Bucky and tries to ask a few more questions that are met with stillness and silence. At one point, he moves to take the mask off, but Bucky flinches, so he doesn’t try again. He tries to squash the frustration and has to remind himself how grateful he is that (i) Bucky’s alive and (ii) Bucky’s _here._ It has to mean that he is drawn to Steve in some way, even if he isn’t clear on the details yet. He switches gears and tells Bucky that he wants to keep him safe, and that his friends are going to help.

“Are you okay with that?” He asks Bucky. Other than a brief look of confusion on Bucky’s face, he gets nothing;  but it seems like Bucky wants to ask a question.

“Do you want to ask a question?” he offers. Bucky’s jaw clamps impossibly harder and mechanically shakes his head, turning his face to the right, once, and to the left, once, before firmly staring straight ahead again. It’s the first real movement Steve’s seen and he struggles to hold himself back from taking Bucky in his arms and breaking down. He tries to pack a few things as he suspects this won’t be a one or two day affair. Steve tries to be quiet, mostly so he doesn’t startle Bucky, but also so he can keep an ear out for any movements, scared Bucky’s going to bolt at any moment. (Though, he’s not stupid and knows if Bucky wanted to leave, he’d slip away into the shadows without a sound and Steve would be none the wiser.) He takes his half-filled duffel bag and places it on the couch across from Bucky purposely, so he’d have an excuse to check in. He has to suppress a sigh of relief every time he comes back to see the blood-clad Bucky still sitting there. Bucky doesn’t comment on what Steve’s doing if he’s caught on, and Steve’s almost certain he has. Steve retreats to pack some socks and decides to pack a few things for Bucky too, since they’re relatively the same size. His pocket vibrates and sees TONY light up the screen, He picks up and before he can say “hello,” Tony tells him they’re outside waiting in a black car. Steve mumbles a ‘thanks’ and goes back to the living room.

“Are you ready, Buck?” He asks in a soft voice that he hopes conveys, ‘I-WOULD-NEVER-HURT-YOU.’

Bucky looks at him this time, which surprises Steve, and stands straighter than an ironing board. He flexes his metal arm, then reaches into his hip holster and pulls out a SIG-SAUER P226R, the silver glinting in the light as he removes the safety. Then he looks to Steve quizzically, as if  he’s waiting for further instruction. It takes a moment for Steve to realize that this is what “ready” means to Bucky, and it scares him. Awkwardly, he tries to explain to Bucky he won’t need the gun, and Bucky hesitantly puts the safety on, and the gun back into his holster, but stands at attention. Again, Steve explains that his friends are going to drive them somewhere safe, with as much detail as he possibly can. The explanation of a car ride takes six minutes but Bucky still looks at him blankly before looking at the door. Steve zips up the bag of his - _their_ \- supplies and leads the way. He knows full well that Tony’s patience is non-existent, and is slightly surprised he hasn’t received multiple “HURRY UP” calls. He’s deeply grateful for Tony’s friendship too. He opens the door and is relieved to find that Bucky is following him.

* * *

 

He doesn’t know why he’s here, but it was easy. The fire escape goes up the side of building, and he has to make it over just two ledges before he elbows the frame, denting it enough to slip his fingers in and yank it up. He drops soundlessly into the simple room. His breathing is only a little uneven after the scuffle with the armed men and the miles he’d had to run to get here. He can’t remember why he knows this place. There’s a chair tucked into a corner, so he takes a seat. It feels a little different than the Chair he’s used to - this is wooden, and smaller. He doesn’t know what he’s waiting for or what time it is, but he remembers he has to wait for his new assignment, and for there to be an assignment, there has to be a handler.

Warmth. That was new. The river had been cold, the walk away had been even colder as the brisk evening air went through his damp clothing. He couldn’t remember the pick-up point then. Even now, he’s not sure he has it right. Maybe he’s missed it. Some time passes, he can’t be sure how much exactly, but soon there are footsteps in the hallway. He hears a jangle of keys and then the lock turns.

“WHAT THE-”

He almost flinches at the loudness of the man’s voice, but forces himself to stay still. The man looks familiar, but he can’t remember what other assignments he’s received from the man. The man starts talking, so he studies quietly - the man is bigger than his other handlers, and bigger than the Scientist.. Blonde, talks more, looks at him a lot. There’s no mention of a mission yet.

“My name is Steve Rogers, we were friends…” There it is again, the name. _Steve Rogers._ He remembers the name, but still can’t think of where. At least he remembers the name and the face, It means they’ve worked together before and he was allowed to remember. That’s a good sign. He doesn’t think too much about the “friends” part, not quite knowing what it means and lets the man continue. He can’t hear much over the thumping in his brain. _Thud. Thud. Thud._ The man - The Handler- makes a phone call and looks worried the whole time. He doesn’t like that. If his Handler is worried, maybe there were unforeseen circumstances and last minute changes to the mission. The man makes another phone call and there’s another man’s voice that says he’ll be right there. Panic rises, and he unwillingly clenches his hands around the wooden armrests, causing one side to splinter in his hand. The Handler says something else, but it’s drowned out by the static. _Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt._ He briefly wonders when the Phone Man will get here. They always have at least two people to reset him, usually more, so if it’s just one man - just The Handler, he likely doesn’t have to worry about that. Yet.

Handler goes and gets a big bag, and starts packing things. He knows that The Handler is checking in on him a lot, likely trying to see if he’s defective in any way or needs to be reset. The Handler explains his friends are coming to get them, and help. He knows what “help” means, it means they’re going to reset him anyway, and his body goes cold thinking about the Chair. A barely-suppressed shiver runs through him.

“Are you ready, Bucky?” The Handler asks. A flash of something goes off in his memory - a bridge? But it’s gone as quickly as it came and he winces in pain. _THUD. THUD._ The headache intensifies before it fades  to a dull ache. Maybe he doesn’t know the word “Bucky” after all, perhaps it’s a new codename, but he stands to do his standard check. Body and arm feel functional. Equipment is still on. He reaches for the gun and is satisfied when the safety clicks off. He awaits instructions on how to proceed and where the extraction point is. The Handler says he doesn’t need the gun and motions to put it away, so he does. What kind of assignment won’t need a gun? Maybe he has to kill with his hands. Silent mission, then. The Handler picks up the bag and goes to the door, so he follows. Maybe there are weapons in the bag, he decides. He follows.

* * *

 

Steve stays beside Bucky the whole time, closer than he even dared, really, and thanks all his stars Tony is right in front of the door. He opens the back door of the small limousine with a friendly smile and gestures for Bucky to get in. Once he scooches in, he comes face-to-face with Tony and Sam.

“What.” Tony’s voice is flat and clearly seeking an explanation now that the hysteria from the phone call has passed.

“I don’t know, he just showed up and was in my apartment and I didn’t know what I was supposed to do!”

“I meant the fact that you smell like you’ve been rolling in roadside water, but feel free to explain your ninja friend too and how he found you,” Tony jabs.

“Dude, he’s bleeding,” Sam interrupts. Tony grumbles something about cleaning leather seats.

“Uh, I think it mostly belongs to someone else,” Steve says impishly. Sam gives him a ‘that-doesn’t-sound-much-better’ look in which his eyes almost pop out of his head.

“He doesn’t respond to me,” Steve shrugs helplessly, “I did try to ask.”

“Happy, to the Tower, please,” Tony sighs dramatically after tapping the glass, and the limo slowly lurches forward into the mostly empty streets.

“Bucky?” Steve nudges him softly. Bucky’s head turns his way, eyes lowering to avoid direct eye contact.

 

“These are my friends, this is Tony and this is Sam.” He can hear Sam mutter something about their previous encounter, but Steve ignores him. He watches as Bucky’s eyes land on Tony, then on Sam, then out the window once more.

Bucky, predictably, is the only silent one the whole ride. Tony hammers Steve with questions about Bucky’s state of mind, physical injuries and detailed recap of what happened. Sam hums every now and then to show he’s listening but is mostly staring at Bucky, who in turn continues to stare out the window.

* * *

 

The Handler stays close, even when they get into the car. He sees two more men in the back, and pretends he doesn’t care. Bearded man begins to speak, and The Handler responds. A voice he recognizes as Phone Man addresses an issue, and all eyes are on him. _Don’t flinch._ It works, even when The Handler nudges him. _Thud. Thud. Thud._

He realizes that The Handler is giving names to the others, which he thinks is strange.

 _Bucky_.

The Handler keeps calling him that. Must be his new codename. He can’t show it, but he’s anxious about the mission.

No mission means back to the Freezer. He tries his best not to make eye contact.

* * *

 

When they finally stop, they are underneath the Tower, in the hangar where Tony keeps all his luxurious cars. It’s a wide open and brightly lit place and even Steve squints as he gets out of the car. Tony and Sam are stretching as they get out, Happy gives them firm shakes all around. Tony says he can have the whole week off and Happy smiles appreciatively as Sam admires the cars around him. Steve frowns when he realizes Bucky is still sitting in the car, his head facing forward. He makes his way to Bucky’s side and opens the door slowly.

“Bucky? You can get out of the car now,” Steve urges gently, holding the door open. Bucky moves his legs mechanically and steps out, taking a place one step behind Steve.

Steve realizes after he closes the door that Tony and Sam are staring. He thinks that maybe Bucky doesn’t register what’s going on, but the look of pity and awe mixed in their gaze is something Steve hopes Bucky will never have to experience. He runs his hand through his hair in frustration.

“I can’t get through to him.”

“Yeah, we can see that,” Tony says bluntly. “Are we sure he’s even still in there?” Steve holds back his anger, thankful that Sam elbows Tony for the comment.

“I’m sure, Tony. Why else would he have come to my apartment?”

“Uh, to _finish the job_?” Tony says in a tone that makes it seem like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Then why am I still here?” Steve proposes. “I’ve turned my back to him, there’s been plenty of opportunities.” Sam’s just looking back and forth between all three of them, unsure of what to say.

“I’m gonna tell you this right now, Cap,” Tony starts. “I want you to be right. But on the off chance that you’re _not_ , this goes beyond you, beyond me. It’s about everyone. If we can’t keep things under control, we put more than just ourselves at risk. And we can’t have that. You know that.” Tony fixes him with a hard stare, and Steve knows he’s right.

“I know,” he agrees grudgingly. “I know,” he repeats, softer this time.

“Okay,” Tony then sighs. “First off, we barely know where to start, but we need to get information, fast, without alerting anyone. JARVIS!”

“Yes, sir,” comes the autonomous voice. Steve smiles despite the gravity of the situation as Sam looks at the ceiling, eyes wide in awe. Steve murmurs to Bucky that it’s an AI, nothing to be afraid of.

“Tell me everything you can about our guest,” Tony instructs. There’s a flicker in front, where the holographic screen comes up. The body outline shows heat signatures, heart rate and a startling array of numbers. Steve watches as Tony looks through everything, JARVIS walking him through all of Bucky’s stats.

“How’s this guy still standing? We need to get him to at least sit down, and get some blood in him or he’s gonna drop. To the med bay!” He turns on his heel with an exaggerated finger twirl in the air and leaves the rest of them to follow. Steve inclines his head toward their direction to get Bucky to follow. It seems to be okay, until they get to the medical bay floor. The elevator doors slide open without a sound and they all go to move - except Bucky.

“Bucky?” Steve asks, putting a hand on the doors to prevent them from closing.

“Come on, Bucky,” he coaxes. He notices that Bucky is walking gingerly, but eventually makes it out of the elevator, just far enough that Steve can let the elevator doors close. Steve watches Bucky’s demeanor - there’s a slight tremor in his jaw, like he’s clenching his teeth, his eyes staring straight at the chair Tony has set up.

“We’re just running some tests, to see if you’re okay,” Steve assures him. “Then we’re going to give you some blood because you’ve lost so much. Okay?” Bucky doesn’t acknowledge him, just lets Steve gently guide him to the chair. He doesn’t sit down.

“He looks terrified,” Sam says, his eyes studying Bucky’s.

“Seriously? What could my chair have done to possibly offend you?” Tony quips.

“Can we do it somewhere else, Tony?” Steve asks, just wanting to put Bucky at ease. Tony sighs, rolls his eyes, and complains that he can’t do his job, but leads them into the next room where there’s a recovery bed instead.

“Does he have anything against beds?” Tony asks indignantly.  

“Is this better, Bucky?” Steve asks, gesturing to the bed. They wait, but nothing happens. After a minute, JARVIS alerts them that his BP is dropping and his body temperatures are rising.

“We can’t waste more time, he needs serious medical attention,” Tony huffs.  “JARVIS, drop the temp. Fast.” Steve turns to Bucky. He doesn’t want to push or make his friend uncomfortable, but Tony is right, and the concern for Bucky’s bleeding surpasses the concerns for comfort.

“Bucky, I’m going to need you to sit somewhere, doesn’t matter where,” Steve says in an even tone. They all look surprised when he drops to a knee gracefully, then folds himself down to sit cross legged on the floor. Tony lets out a bark of bitter amusement.

“Well, Cap, you did say it didn’t matter where. Alright, let’s get this going.” It doesn’t take very long for them to get the supplies. Tony moves the bed out of the way so they can maneuver around Bucky’s firm placement on the floor.

“Uh, okay, I was gonna roll up his sleeve for the IV but,” Tony just waves his hand towards Bucky. “How the fuck does this come off?”

Steve tugs at the fabric, it’s thick and is practically plastered to Bucky. There are a variety of buckles, so Steve pulls. The one across his chest and the one around his waist come undone, then he realizes they’re also secured on the side so he undoes the velcro there. Another buckle, then one more. Once the buckles come loose, the top layer falls away freely. The sleeve over Bucky’s non-metal arm is made of the same material and also detaches. Now Steve has to tug on the next layer. It’s a dense material that only stretches so much, Bucky obediently raises his arms so Steve can tug it off over his head. He hesitates but then decides to try and unclip the mask too. This time, Bucky lets him. It’s quite the process, but they finally have a shirtless Bucky, with access to his veins for Tony to put the IV in. Tony also has to attach the electrodes to Bucky’s chest.  They all notice the gash in his right side, bright red and crusted around the edges like he’d been slashed at with a serrated knife. On his face, red lines have formed where the mask was clearly too tightly strapped to his face. _Like a muzzle,_ Steve thinks bitterly to himself.

“JARVIS, how are we looking?”

“Better, sir. BP has risen and body temperature has lowered slightly. Heart rate monitoring more accurate and on track.”

“Yeah, well the guy was probably roasting in his ridiculously warm Kevlar/Nomex outfit, guess he’s used to being the Winter Soldier and all that.”

Bucky’s head turns sharply toward Tony, and Steve almost jumps between them before realizing that Bucky hasn’t left the floor. Tony’s eyes widen, realizing he must have triggered something. They all freeze waiting for the next move that doesn’t come. Bucky, to his credit, straightens his head and stares blankly at the wall in front, as if nothing happened at all.

“We need help,” Sam says at last.

* * *

 

The location is bright and big, which is strange. He normally operates at night, in the dark, unseen. He waits until they’re ready for him. The Handler opens his door and he thought perhaps it was time. Instead, they keep talking. He almost looks to the sky when the new voice comes in. Handler calls it AI.

Now they’re on the move. He thought this was an assignment, but handlers don’t come on assignments like this. He follows them.

When the doors open, he has to fight hard not to protest. He knew it. There was never going to be an assignment. They want to reset him, or put him back under.

“Bucky?”

“Come on out, Bucky.”

The Handler’s voice is soft and it’s stupid - makes him harder to obey.  He doesn’t want to listen, but there’s no real choice. He still knows the consequences. His brain feels like it’s on fire, remember the electricity. He steps into the room.

“We’re just running some tests, to see if you’re okay. Then we’re going to give you some blood because you’ve lost so much. Okay?”

 _No._ He blinks, careful not to show anything. He feels The Handler steer him towards the chair. _No no no no no._

He’s desperate to keep the memories he’s made in the past two weeks. He feels like he can almost remember something and doesn’t want to lose all his progress. There was a park, with tall, full trees. He holds on to the images like a lifeline. While he tries to find a way to protest, he hears them discuss something and is then being led away from the chair.

“Is this better, Bucky?” The Handler asks. It’s not a chair. It’s also not a Freezer. He doesn’t know what it is, or what it does. There are screens around it. Maybe it’s a new test. He doesn’t want to take it. Bearded Man seems angry.

“Bucky, I’m going to need you to sit somewhere, doesn’t matter where.”

 _Sit?_ He recognizes the order. He does what Handler says. Bearded Man laughs, so maybe Bearded Man is not angry anymore. He has passed their test. They bring wires and tubing, and  The Handler undresses him. He’s confused - usually they tell him to undress himself. The Handler’s slow at it. He doesn’t mind the sticky circles to his chest, but they’re cold at first. He has to be more careful with control now that he doesn’t have the mask to hide behind.

“... **Winter Soldier**.”

 _No._ He turns his head too quickly. They all stare at him, and he waits for punishment for remembering. He tries to be good - stare ahead, pretend it doesn’t mean anything. They don’t punish him. He watches as they leave him alone in the room. He sits. Some of them come in and out, some of them stay outside. He watches carefully, but he doesn’t move. That was a close call.

 

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

* * *

 

“The moment we reach out, SHIELD is gonna come for us,” Tony warns.

“We stay away from SHIELD, then,” Steve says firmly. He knows what they’ll do if he admits that they have Bucky.

“Maybe it won’t be so bad,” Tony says slowly. “Look how Loki’s doing,” he adds.

Steve sighs. Loki is the reason that Steve thought it was okay to call Tony. After Loki’s capture and what happened in New York, Thor had brought him back to Asgard. He told them Asgardian justice was different from Earth, but that Loki would be punished accordingly. It hadn’t been more than two months before Thor came back to them, begging for help. Asgardian justice had proven _quite different_ in that they bound Loki beneath a continuous drip of venom, searing Loki’s eyes and effectively rendering him blind and helpless. The curse their father had placed prevented Loki from using his magic, and had forbade anyone to help Loki or even ease Loki’s pain. At first, they didn’t see what the big deal was, though it sounded awful to Steve. It was only after Thor snuck Tony into Asgard, and Tony came back fuming more than Steve had ever seen did they agree to take a look into it. Natasha and Clint were far less enthusiastic, but agreed to come a back-up in case they needed to beat the ever-loving crap out of Loki again. At least, those were Clint’s words.

They were still in the works of figuring out what to do with Loki, but after his rescue and a few months of rehabilitation, Loki confessed and took responsibility for his crimes, but also provided intel. That was when he’d finally admitted it wasn’t entirely him, that he’d been threatened, tortured, and ultimately brainwashed to do The Other’s bidding. Clint wasn’t any less mad about what had happened to him, but a bit more empathetic when Loki described it as being hell. Thor had been their liaison, and with the Avengers (and SHIELD), they negotiated with Odin, allowing them to set the course for Loki’s punishment since it was technically Earth that Loki’s crimes were committed against, not Asgard. Surprisingly, the king put up less of a fight than they thought he would. Loki mostly assisted them with magical elements since sorcerers were a bit scarce on the team, and in the moments he doesn’t work with them, he studies, travels and gathers information. He knew The Other wouldn’t give up so easily, and Earth was still a target. The file that Tony has on The Other grows steadily with Loki’s contributions.

Steve doesn’t know if SHIELD will support the same notion twice. They weren’t exactly a progressive bunch. Loki is helping with the defence against an outer space threat, alien armies, magic that they don’t know about it. In Bucky’s case… Steve’s almost positive that Hydra had done the same things to Bucky as The Other had done to Loki - his eyes are tracing the bruises and scars on Bucky’s body in that moment. He knows Bucky’s not entirely there, which means they’ve addled his brain somehow, trying to turn him into a soulless weapon. Would Bucky be able to provide SHIELD with intel on Hydra? Earn a place with the Avengers too? He knows that Stark might have a point, but it’s hard for him to imagine SHIELD letting this slide, _again._ Besides, he wasn’t Thor, he had no power and law to stop Bucky like Thor did with Loki. For the most part, Loki is voluntarily doing his time. Would Bucky? Steve closes his eyes and remembers the Bucky from his childhood. Sweet, protective, caring Bucky. But also the riled up, devilish sweet-talking Bucky with a shit-eating grin and a knack for getting into trouble. It kills Steve to even think it, but _can he trust Bucky again_?

“I can’t take the risk,” Steve says finally after he’s mulled it over. “Not yet.”

“He’s not in a good headspace,” Sam reminds him. “I’ve seen PTSD, I’ve seen withdrawal, I’ve seen guilt, hell, Steve, I’ve seen a lot. I’ve never seen something like this,” Sam says, pointing at Bucky’s empty stare.

“I don’t disagree with you, I know he needs help, but we need someone who’s not SHIELD, just until he gets a bit better - enough to communicate that he’s on our side, and more importantly, can prove it,” Steve bargains, eyes trained on Sam.

“I’m not the best you got,” Sam says, reading his friend’s stare. “I can’t be.”

“You are.”

“Nuh-uh.” Sam’s nervous about this. He has no idea what Bucky’s been through, but the bruising and haunting emptiness says a lot. He doesn’t know if he can handle the task that Steve’s asking of him, because this isn’t an ordinary veteran. No, this is Steve’s life as much as it is Bucky’s.

“I can’t do it alone,” he says reluctantly. He expects to see Steve’s face fall, but instead, Steve looks pleased. He knows it means that Sam’s agreed.

“Fantastic, I was just gonna call in some back-up myself,” Tony intervenes. “JARVIS, could you ring up my ol’ buddy? The green one.” Steve smiles a bit. He’s missed Bruce.

“Of course, sir.”

Tony blasts right into the reason for his phone call, and from Bruce’s bleary voice, he can tell they’ve interrupted his sleep. Steve glances at the clock on the wall. No wonder - it reads 5:13AM, even though his skin is buzzing with energy. It doesn’t take much to convince him to make his way down to New York, and Bruce doesn’t decline when Tony offers to send a jet for him. Clint was easy to bring on board, but Natasha’s unreachable. For now, they think this is their best bet of keeping it from SHIELD.

 

* * *

 

The night/morning goes as expected. It’s about six o'clock in the morning now, and Sam’s in bed, after a major freak out about how Tony’s given him his own bedroom. It’s on Steve’s floor, and Steve doesn’t mind at all. In the meantime, Tony’s going through the previous scans more thoroughly, comparing the first ones he took to the most recent ones. JARVIS is able to take preliminary scans that give them a rough outline of what they’re dealing with. Steve paces. Relentlessly. Enough that Tony has scheduled carpeting to be done immediately.

He watches Bucky, sitting on the floor, eyes still alert and flickering when there are new noises. It’s becoming more clear that there’s still a part of him that thinks he’s a soldier, responding to orders rather than questions, or at least picking up on certain words in their questions and taking them as orders. He doesn’t know how to reach Bucky and tell him he’s free from it all. Tony enters the room and gets close to Bucky, holding up a tablet. Bucky doesn’t respond, but Tony points and says something else. Bucky shakes his head in the same two-step motion as he had back at Steve’s apartment. Steve asks Tony what happened the moment he exits Bucky’s room.

“Nothing. A spectacular amount of goddamn shit nothing,” Tony exhales loudly. Steve’s sure they both look like shit, especially with the dark bags forming under Tony’s eyes, but he tries to summon a warm, friendly face to get Tony to talk.

“Steve, I think the arm’s dangerous,” Tony tells him with the most serious look Steve’s ever seen on his face.

“In what way?”

“In a might-possibly-kill-him way,” Tony says, not holding back. “The scans show me a fairly good idea of what they did to attach it - JARVIS is better with scanning tech than flesh - and it’s not very well done at all, might I add. First of all, they fucking put bolts and screws wherever the hell they wanted. Second, there’s wires _everywhere_ . I thought they’d maybe just rig it up to his nervous system, enough to create a path so brain waves could carry his mental commands to the arm. But they’re wrapped like vines around everything, Steve, not just the nervous system. Brain stem, spine, they’re wrapped around _bone_ for fuck’s sake.”

“Wh - Why would they -” Steve’s taking all this in, not realizing the extent of the reach HYDRA had on him. The arm wasn’t just a mere extension, it was practically embedded into Bucky.

“Two things,” Tony interrupts. “One: they clearly don’t know what the fuck they’re doing. Or maybe they know too much. Two: they definitely didn’t want someone removing it. It’s more dangerous like this, Steve, one wrong tug and it could pull or snap something out of place. They wanted that shit so deep in there nobody would even attempt to -.” Steve’s face must’ve said it all.

“So what do we do?”

“Well I’m gonna try to remove it, obviously.” Steve can’t even begin to form a sentence before Tony holds up his hands in protest to interrupt him.

“Not alone, and not without help. That’s why Bruce was the first one I called.” There’s a moment of Steve balancing what he thought would be best for Bucky and what they could realistically do.

“Be straight with me, you just said it was dangerous. What are some of the things that could happen if you tried to remove his arm?”

“A lot of bad shit.”

“Tony,” Steve growls, using his ‘no-bullshit’ voice.

“I honestly mean what I’m saying, Steve,” Tony says with a straight face. But he caves in. “He could experience a lot of pain - no, he _will_ experience a lot of pain. There’s  been _no_ maintenance done. His tissue has grown over the bolts, we’d have to cut them free. But, we’d be helping him regain control and heal his body. The damage is extensive as it is… You think about lugging around a bajillion ton metal arm and see how exhausted your body gets. The other thing we have to consider is that, maybe, the arm’s wiring through to the brain, with all the jumping around he does, y’know, killings and that, I’m sure it’s jostling things around, and tugging at god knows what -”

“You’re saying it’s causing brain damage?”

“Proud of you,” Tony murmurs. He pauses, as if he wishes he could sugar-coat it for Steve but can’t. “There’s also a few mechanisms hidden in that arm. I’m pretty sure it’s equipped with an EMP.”

“To take out enemy weapons?”

“Definitely,” Tony agrees, but adds, “Also, probably, to send electric charges through the body.” Steve’s face twists in horror.

“They could -”

“Yes, but it looks like that particular tool is damaged right now, otherwise they’d have used it already, I would assume,” Tony says, even though it doesn’t calm Steve down whatsoever. All these things that Steve had no idea about.

“We need to get ahead of their tech,” Tony urges. “We need a _full body_ work up, a CAT scan, a stress test, I’m talking the full works here. Would’ve liked an MRI but I’m not interested in ripping his arm from his socket just yet.”

“But he’s done so much…” Steve starts, thinking about all the fighting he’s done, how many times they’ve struck his arm, throwing his shield at it full-force and Bucky’s ability to catch it and throw it back twice as hard. Tony shakes his head.

“Luck can only get you so far, Cap. Besides, just because his arm _works_ doesn’t mean it’s not wreaking havoc elsewhere. The inner works are going to kill him. Maybe not today, but tomorrow’s not out of the equation.” Steve nods. He understands what Tony’s saying - that they have to get Bucky to do these things, and that there’s no time for the gentleness Steve’s showing. He doesn’t want to push Bucky, but he can’t lose Bucky again either.

“I’ll try.”

“Sorry Cap, but there’s no time for that. Do or do not, there is no try,” Tony says, knowing the reference is lost on Steve. Together, they walk into Bucky’s room, now back at a normal temperature.

“Hey, we’re really gonna need your help with some things, so if you could get up off the floor, that’d be swell.”

Steve resists the urge to tell Tony to slow down, keeps trying to beat it into his own head that Bucky can’t afford to just sit around. He watches Tony interact with Bucky, the way Tony gestures his hand upward, and Bucky complies. Tony keeps his eyes on Bucky’s, and slowly peels the electrodes off, and removes the IV as well.

“JARVIS?” JARVIS gives an update for them, and Tony nods, so Steve assumes it’s what they were hoping for.

“Blood pressure isn’t ideal, but it’s fine. It looks like the wounds are already healing, which is good. Bruising and swelling is manageable. Heart rate great.” Steve appreciates the small summary from Tony.

“Thank you.”

“Follow me,” Tony says, and Steve watches Bucky fall in step. When Tony reaches the other side, there’s a large circular machine with a sliding bed in front, which Steve recognizes as an imaging machine of some sort, a little fancier than most. “Lie down,” he points to the bed, eyes on Bucky.

“ _Sir, heart rate is elevated_ ,” JARVIS’s voice announces. Tony watches as it climbs slowly but steadily.

“What could this mean? His injuries?” Steve asks, wondering if it was too soon for them to be making Bucky move around with a knife wound.

“No…” Tony drags the word out with a confused look. “I think… He’s scared.”

“Bucky?” Steve says gently. He notices Bucky’s eyes, wide and not as blue as they used to be. There’s no facial expression, but Steve can tell that there’s something wrong. He knows that Tony is right.

“Hey, there’s nothing to be afraid of, it’s just an scan. We’re just going to take a picture of your brain, and see if it’s okay,” he explains. He feels strange, addressing Bucky like a child, but he’s honestly not sure what Bucky can make out, if Bucky’s as lost as he was when they first introduced him to the world, sixty years after he thought he’d left it. He didn’t think HYDRA invested in Bucky’s education, at the very least. His explanation doesn't seem to make things better, so he walks to the bed and slowly eases himself on it.

“See? It’s okay.”

“Steve, lie still, I’m gonna turn it on.”

Steve gives a thumbs up to Tony, and a whirring noise fills the room. He feels the bed slide forward and when it stops, there’s just an expanse of white machine all around him. It’s almost peaceful until the thumping noises start. He holds still, as promised, and it only takes a few moments before he can feel himself being pulled out again. He smiles at Bucky.

“See? It’s safe. Can you try for me?” Steve asks. “Can you lie down?” Bucky slowly does what Steve’s asking. He’s still as can be, and Steve’s almost worried he’s dead but assures him heart rate is only slightly elevated, and they can begin.

“I’m gonna be right here, Bucky,” Steve says, to comfort himself as much for Bucky’s sake.

_“Slight increase in heart rate, sir.”_

“Alright, almost done,” Tony announces as the machine starts up again. It feels like an eternity, but the bed begins to slide out again. Bucky blinks a few times, like he doesn’t know what happened, but Steve helps him out of the bed just fine, and they both stand there waiting for Tony to say something.

_“Heart rate has dropped already, and is steadying, sir.”_

“Let’s get you rested.” And Steve can hear a slight hint of worry in Tony’s voice. Once they’re back in the first room, they gesture to the bed, and this time Bucky doesn’t fight it. He lays down, eyes adjusted to a spot on the ceiling.

“Okay Bucky, time to get some rest.” There’s a small furrow in Bucky’s eyebrow.

“Time for sleep?” Steve tries, and Bucky almost immediately snaps his eyes close. Steve stares at Bucky for a few minutes, not sure if he’s faking it or is just really tired. Tony also has a look of bewilderment on his face.

_“Heart rate has dropped, brain waves appear to reflect light sleep.”_

Tony nods, and Steve knows it’s a good thing that JARVIS has just informed him of, but the thought of Bucky sleeping on command unsettles him. They leave Bucky at peace and exit quietly.

* * *

 

Bearded Man comes back into the room and shows him things on a small screen. He thinks they’re trying to make him a new arm, but the last one hurt too much. He shakes his head when the questions are asked, hoping it means no new arm. Bearded Man leaves, and talks to The Handler. He thinks Bearded Man is probably a lead Scientist. He listens for Scientist and The Handler to talk, doesn’t pick up on everything, but it sounds bad. The Handler sounds upset.

It takes a while, but they come back to the room. This time, Scientist is the one who gives orders. He stands, all the wires still attached to him. They get rid of all of them, he thinks he feels better now. Scientist says follow, so he does. He recognizes that order.

“Lie down.” He knows Scientist is talking to him, but he looks at the bed and the machine. It may look more comfortable… but he recognizes the shape. The circular tube. It looks different, but it’s still a Freezer. Once he lies down in the bed, it will slide, and close, and the next time he gets up he’ll be reset and lose everything. He hears them talking, but all he can think about is how much he doesn’t want to be frozen again. How much he has learned in the past weeks. The static in his brain is louder than ever. _Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt._

“Bucky?” The Handler talks to him - talks _at_ him, more like, because the words are coming in all at once. He doesn’t know what to do.

Suddenly, Handler’s on the bed and he’s confused. Why would they freeze a Handler? Why did The Handler give thumbs up? Thumbs up means good things. He does his best not to flinch when the machine makes noises - low thumping noises. Normally, Freezers make hissing noises. Then, The Handler comes back out and smiling. He doesn’t understand. _Why is The Handler happy for freezing? Why was freezing so short?_

“Can you lie down?” He can’t disobey orders twice, otherwise it means the Cage. And he hates the Cage. He resigns himself and lays flat on the bed.

“I’m gonna be right here, Bucky.” The Handler’s voice is still clear, even though it bounces off the walls around him. He feels like he might suffocate, but tries to calm his breathing. It’s not even cold.

 _Thump, thump, thump._ He counts the _thump_ s to pass the time as they blend into the thumping in his own head. It’s not long, about the same time as it took for The Handler, and he can feel himself exiting the tube. It’s brighter outside than he remembered. But ultimately, he wasn’t frozen. He’s very... happy about this.

They pull him towards the earlier room, and ask him to lie down again. He doesn’t see the harm in this bed, it’s bigger than the other one.

“Okay Bucky, time to get some rest.” He’s not sure how to do that. _Rest_ usually means lower your weapon, but stand alert just in case.

“Time for sleep?” _Sleep._ That command is easy. It means it’s time to heal, so he closes his eyes and lets his mind slowly empty itself.

“Time to take your own advice,” Tony hollers at Steve. “Or a shower. You can pick which one comes first. I’d pick the shower but hey, that’s me” Tony makes a vague wave before he struts off, presumably to his own floor. Steve, with one more look at Bucky, eyes shut close, he makes JARVIS promise him to update him with anything, and leaves for his own room.

 

* * *

It’s 8:17AM, and Steve finally feels his exhaustion hit him like a train. He peels his t-shirt off, aware that he’s probably well in need of a shower. His suite’s the same as last time, after he’d stayed to help New York back on its feet after the Chitauri incident. He hadn’t really stayed here in almost a year now, but Tony’s kept it clean for him. He smiles at the new additions - the photos they’ve taken together as the Avengers. He didn’t think he’d ever find a bond, a group, that he’d connect with as deeply as he’d felt with the Howling Commandos, but the smiling faces he sees in these photos are his family now. His heart lurches when he thinks of Bucky, all by himself downstairs. _God, he must be so afraid_ , he thinks. Then he almost laughs at the ridiculous thought of Bucky being afraid. This is all so new, so strange, to him. The childhood memories flood to the surface - Bucky coming to his rescue and fighting off the bullies, Bucky with his smirks and grins, never a worry written on his face. He wants that Bucky back, and they’d be part of a family again. Together.

The shower is tempting, but he holds off to unpack a few of his items and get used to his room again. Everything is right where he left them, little scraps of mementos that showed off what his life had become. A ticket stub from the movie he’d seen with Tony and Clint a few weeks ago, a program from the Russian play he’d seen with Natasha when she had gone undercover and needed a “date.” His sketchbook is in the drawer of the computer desk he had in the corner, riddled with half-finished drawings and doodles. He unlocks the bottom drawer with a six-digit code, and frowns as he retrieves the first thing. A copy of Bucky’s file. He’s been given files of his former allies and friends - courtesy of SHIELD - and now the “DECEASED” written across the page is almost a taunt. File after file, “DECEASED”, “DECEASED”, “DECEASED”. He has carried the sorrow alone - a part of him almost wishes Bucky could remember - not to shoulder his pain with him, but so Bucky could tell him the funny stories, and remember their comrades in the light they would want to be. Only Peggy is still within reach out of all his files, and yet she is a thousand miles away most days. Howlett’s file was labelled “MIA” but he knows they presume ol’ James to be dead, if not in the war itself, then of old age just like the others. He takes out a journal he keeps at the bottom of everything - the leather is worn and softened by time. He’s written about everything since his awakening - it helps him get a hold of things and remember how to move on with the times and adapt. Honestly, it has kept him sane. And it also recounts all his memories from before the war, memories he was afraid would get lost between trying to catch up with the rest of the world. Today is something he feels he needs to write about, to help him make sense of it somehow.

After about half an hour, Steve lays his pen down and locks his drawer up again. Taking a deep breath, he discards his clothes and drops them in a hamper by the door. It still feels weird to have Tony’s staff pick up his dirty laundry, but Tony challenged him to find the washing machine on his own once and he’s since been unable to argue after an hour of wandering. The showers are just as lavish as he remembered, and he welcomes the hot, steady stream of water on his overworked muscles. He’s grateful he’s at least done and towelled off when JARVIS interrupts his faraway thoughts.

_“I was instructed to alert you should anything change in regards to Sergeant Barnes, sir. It seems he is awake. All vitals are stable.”_

There’s a brief pause as Steve imagines Bucky waking up in an unfamiliar place, remembering his own reaction to waking up from being thawed. He thinks about Bucky bolting through the doors, knocking everything and everyone out of the way.

“JARVIS, what is he doing?” Steve asks as he throws on the first pair of pants and sweater he can find, making for the door.

_“He hasn’t moved, sir.”_

Steve breathes a sigh of relief, but still runs to the door. Once he’s makes it to Bucky’s room, he can see that JARVIS wasn’t lying. The only difference from when he’d last seen Bucky was that Bucky’s eyes are now open.

“Hey Bucky, how are you feeling?” He whispers as he edges closer to Bucky’s side. He sees a slow blink, but nothing else. There’s a pang in his heart as he studies Bucky up close and under a light. There are dark bags under his faraway eyes, smudges of dirt and god knows what else on his face. Bucky’s hair is a mess scattered across the pillow and Steve doesn’t think twice about it, carding his fingers through the tangles. He smiles fondly, remembering the times he’d fix Bucky’s hair back when they went out together, making sure it was smoothed and in place for whatever girl (or _girl_ **_s_ ** ) Bucky was trying to impress. How jealous he had been, of Bucky looking like every girl’s dream with minimum effort, of Bucky being the centre of attention. _No._ That was a lie and Steve knew it. He _had_ been jealous, but not of Bucky… Of all the ladies who captured his attention. He wanted Bucky to look at him the way he’d looked at those girls - like they were all he needed to be happy. He notices Bucky’s eyes following his hand as he works through the tangles, and it makes him wonder when the last time Bucky had been shown any affection was.

“I’ll always be here for you, Bucky. Always, ya hear? I’m with you ‘til the end of the line,” he adds, reverting back to old habits and traditions. He’s not sure if he’s imagining things, but he thinks Bucky’s eyes shine just a little brighter and his face is less rigid. Before he gets to say anything else, Tony comes bouncing into the room.

“How’s our patient doing?” Even though he’s already looking at the monitors and whatever JARVIS has been gathering for the past little while. Steve winces slightly at the words, but at least it’s not “prisoner” or “enemy.” He nods a response, but keeps his eyes trained on Bucky.

“I can’t be sure. He couldn’t have been out longer than an hour, but he woke up on his own and hasn’t said anything to me yet.”

“Let’s take a look,” Tony says and closes in on the other side of the bed. He flips the blanket down unceremoniously and they both instantly notice the thin, angry red line where there had definitely been a gaping slash wound earlier.

“Oooooooookaaaaaay then,” Tony mumbles, now searching the expanse of Bucky’s skin curiosity peaking.  

“Even you don’t heal this fast,” he adds matter-of-factly. It does confuse Steve a bit, but he’s just glad that Bucky’s doing better.

“So, can you get him to take his pants off?” Tony asks abruptly.

“Can I - _what?”_ Steve splutters, face burning at the implications.

“I meant, if you asked him nicely, would he listen and lose his pants ‘cause we have no idea what other injuries he might have,” Tony clarifies with a cheeky grin. Steve fixes him with a hard stare.

“Or the other way, whichever you prefer, really,” he adds with a wiggle of his eyebrows. Steve tries extremely hard to control his blush (unsuccessfully) and Bucky’s still as a painting but his eyes are on Steve. _God, please don’t let this be the first thing Bucky takes in._

“Bucky, could you - uh, would you mind taking… Taking these off?” Steve asks, with a tug at Bucky’s cargo pants. He can’t even bring himself to ask like an adult and he feels like he’s in goddamn elementary school. Bucky doesn’t strip as they’d hoped (from a _purely medical standpoint_ , of course) but instead reaches into the pocket Steve had tugged at, producing a butterfly knife and hands it to Steve.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve utters, reaching tentatively for the offered weapon.

“Jesus _cool_ ,” Tony happily corrects. “What else you hiding?” Now Tony resembles a child, searching the pockets on Bucky’s left side without permission. Steve wants to say that’s not polite, but Bucky doesn’t even bat an eyelash. Tony starts with the strap around his ankle and produces another short knife, which Steve recognizes from the fight they’d had on the highway, when he first saw Bucky’s face and his world had been turned upside down. There’s a pocket by his calf that Tony finds another knife in - one that folds up to be no bigger than a little Swiss Army knife and stray casings and bullets, some covered in blood. Probably to cover his tracks, Steve thinks silently to himself though Tony’s probably concluded the same. The pocket at his waist produces a bit - _a lot -_ of ammunition.

“Find anything fun on your side?” Tony quips, marvelling at how much crap could fit into pant pockets.

“ _Tony_ ,” Steve says sternly.

“Alright, fine, fine, so our walking weapons store seems like he’s holding up just fine, but damn does he _reek_. I need to fill Pepper in on what’s happening, so, could you be a dear?” It’s not really a question since he’s out of the room before his sentence is even finished. Steve doesn’t miss the tone Tony uses. Well, there’s no harm in a fresh shower.

“Okay, Buck. Bear with me here,” he says, extending his hand. Instead of placing his right hand in Steve’s, Bucky offers his left arm to him, which makes him twist his body uncomfortably. He looks like he’s waiting for Steve to look at his arm, but Steve shakes his head, heartbroken. _Bucky’s been so lost to human connections._ He drops his hands to Bucky’s, and the sudden flesh-on-flesh contact makes Bucky look startled. Steve waits for the initial surprise to pass, determined to show Bucky what it feels like to be cared for again. Slowly, he gently strokes the back of Bucky’s hand with his thumb.

“Okay?” he asks softly. He’s surprised when Bucky gives one dip of his head, which resembles a nod, and takes it as progress.

“C’mon,” he says, gently tugging Bucky’s hand. Bucky stares at him.

“Er, follow me?” he asks instead. Just like that, Bucky retracts his hand and hoists himself out of his bed, landing on his feet almost without a sound. Steve had almost forgotten how dangerous Bucky looked like this, the hard set of his jaw clenched, lips in a straight, unwavering line. Steve walks slowly to the elevator, as if he was afraid he’d lose Bucky along the way.

* * *

 

 _Awake_ . He opens his eyes and sees the clean white ceiling. _Ah, yes. The Lab._ He recounts the details of yesterday to see if he can remember - he waited for an assignment, was transported, went into something that was like a Freezer, but not a Freezer. His memories seem sufficient, and he’s pleased. He goes back further to the day before - an alley fight, where he’d been slashed along his side, where he’d taken down the six followers, and had been punched in the back of the head. The details of the fight come easily now, and he remembers heading to The Handler’s room. Steve. He inserts the information The Handler has given him. Steve. It doesn’t seem to suit him.

The Handler comes into the room.

“Hey Bucky, how are you feeling?”

 _Bucky._ His new name. **_Familiar_ ** _._ He vaguely remembers being called Bucky before - an old name, from a previous mission? He’s still trying to remember when he feels The Handler’s - _Steve’s -_ fingers in his hair. He’s confused - what is The Handler doing? He tries to see.

“I’ll always be here for you, Bucky. Always, ya hear? I’m with you ‘til the end of the line.”

 _I’m with you ‘til the end of the line._ **_Familiar._ **He can almost see it, almost place his finger on where he heard that before.

“How’s our patient doing?” Bearded Man (insert Tony) comes in.

“I can’t be sure. He couldn’t have been out longer than an hour, but he woke up on his own and hasn’t said anything to me yet.”

“Let’s take a look.” Tony takes the blanket off. He can see them staring at his body, and he knows he has healed properly so he lets them look.

“Oooooooookaaaaaay then. Even you don’t heal this fast.” _I always heal fast_ , he thinks. Does he mean The Handler heals like him? This is strange.

“So, can you get him to take his pants off?”

“Can I - _what?”_ He thinks that The Handler’s voice sounds indignant at this. He doesn’t understand what the situation really calls for.

“I meant, if you asked him nicely, would he listen and lose his pants ‘cause we have no idea what other injuries he might have. Or the other way, whichever you prefer, really.” The longer their conversation goes, the louder the noise in his brain gets.

“Bucky, could you - uh, would you mind taking… Taking these off?” _THUD. THUD. THUD._ He thinks that Steve might mean taking off pants, but the command for that is _undress_ so he thinks of what else Steve might be asking for. He goes for the pocket and hands him the weapon.

“Jesus Christ.”

“Jesus _cool_. What else you hiding?” He lets Tony go through the pockets because there’s nothing on Tony’s side that he cares for. He tries not to look at The Handler in case he goes looking and sees the scraps of his memories he’s written down. He needs that information, to read later - to remember.

“Find anything fun on your side?” He holds his breath for a second, trying not to panic.

“ _Tony_.”

“Alright, fine, fine, so our walking weapons store seems like he’s holding up just fine, but damn does he _reek_. I need to fill Pepper in on what’s happening, so, could you be a dear?”

Tony leaves, and it’s just him and The Handler now.

“Okay, Buck. Bear with me here.” He sees Steve reach with his hand. Obediently, he lets The Handler look at his arm for maintenance. The Handler doesn’t take it. Instead, he grabs Bucky’s _other_ hand, and the fear hits him like a double decker bus - they wouldn’t want to take this arm too, would they? He knows they’d want to, to make him even stronger but he _doesn’t want -_

The Handler’s fingers are strong, but soft on his skin. The Handler’s not hurting him, or looking at his arm.

“Okay?” If he was something else, he would say ‘okay’ in return because that’s what people do. He’s seen people interact like that. But, he doesn’t trust his voice just yet. He gives an affirmative.

“C’mon.” That Handler’s not very strong - the pull on his hand is weak.

“Er, follow me?” _Follow me_. Orders confirmed. He’s ready for his mission.  

* * *

 

By the time he reaches his suite, he realizes that he really can’t avoid what’s going to happen next. Steve goes into the bathroom, which is spacious enough that he doesn’t feel like he’s crowding Bucky. He adjusts the tap, making the water a tad warmer, remembering the hot baths Bucky loved to take. He puts his hand under the stream - _perfect -_ and he asks Bucky if it’s warm enough. Bucky seems to understand that he’s supposed to do something, and mimics Steve by placing his hand under the water. Upon contact, he immediately jerks back.

“Sorry! Too hot?” Steve asks, going to adjust it. Bucky doesn’t step out of the way, though, just gingerly reaches out again, eyes following the stream up to the showerhead. He just stares at it, but he doesn’t flinch so Steve’s pretty sure the temperature doesn’t actually bother him but he was just surprised instead.

“Bucky?” Bucky looks at him but doesn’t make a move. All of Steve’s hopes of leaving Bucky here to shower by himself in privacy have gone down the drain (ha!) so he tries to focus.

“Okay… It’s time to… Can you undress?” Steve asks awkwardly. He’s not prepared for the unabashed stripping, Bucky toeing off his boots in one smooth motion, fingers deftly working the buttons and zippers on his pants, briefs and socks coming off with them. He tosses them into a pile like it’s nothing.

“In you go!” Steve all but squeaks, gesturing for Bucky to get into the shower. Cocking his head, Bucky steps in the tub and stands just before the steady stream of water. Steve realizes Bucky, naked from head to toe, is staring at him and he tries his hardest to look at nothing else except Bucky’s face. He does, however, notices the bruises near the back of Bucky’s neck, shaped like fingerprints. He takes in every inch of skin, most of it mottled with bruises of every colour. He’d put some of them there himself. If only he could, Steve would wash away each and every mark, erase the pain.

It takes roughly ten seconds before he realizes their current setup isn’t going to work, for a variety of reasons, such as:

  * getting Bucky under the stream = very hard
  * splash is getting everywhere; Bucky’s probably more dry than he is at this point
  * very difficult to not look everywhere
  * Their height is too much the same for Steve to properly wash Bucky's hair



“Let’s try something else, yeah?” He pushes the knob to start the faucet instead, and is happy to see that the tub fills quite quickly the moment he puts the stopper in.  

“Sit down,” he tells Bucky. For novelty (and also some coverage for Bucky’s body), Steve pours some shower gel in the water and is pleased by the bubbles that form. Bucky watches them warily and Steve has never seen someone want to stab a bubble as Bucky does right now. The water covers Bucky’s hips and waist, and Bucky visibly frowns.

“Bucky?” Steve asks tentatively.

“Wrm,” Bucky mumbles so quietly that Steve can’t even be sure it happened at all.

“What was that?” Steve asks gently, but Bucky doesn’t respond this time.

“Warm?” Steve guesses because it makes more sense than “worms”. Bucky’s metal arm rests on the other ledge of the tub but his flesh hand pokes through the soapy surface and he flexes his fingers.

“Bucky, is it too hot?” Steve asks. Bucky shakes his head and Steve is just grateful for a response of any kind. Maybe he was getting closer to… to the real Bucky. He focuses on the task at hand, and picks up the white washcloth hanging off the shower caddy and squirts some of the shower gel into it. He can see Bucky’s nostrils flare the slightest bit and tense. Steve slowly raises the cloth and wipes down Bucky’s shoulder and arm closest to him. He’s gentle enough that he’s probably not really cleaning anything but he doesn’t want to get rough with Bucky.

_Well._

**_...Stop. Bad Steve._ **

He diligently gets Bucky’s shoulders, careful to avoid the scarring, and gets most of Bucky’s back and chest. It’s astonishing to Steve how _firm_ Bucky is - it’s true that Bucky’s always been in pretty good shape, but it’s almost as though Bucky’s whole body was just a solid mass of muscle, as if his time with HYDRA took everything that made Bucky soft and left him hardened like a rock. With a small sigh, he sets the cloth aside.

“I’m gonna get your hair a little wet, okay?” There’s no nod or shake so Steve dips his hands in the water and rests them onto the back of Bucky’s head right behind the ears, rubbing small circles with his thumbs. He repeats the motion until the hair is damp, and his fingers continue to tangle with Bucky’s hair. Steve catches Bucky’s eyes close, lids fluttering for a just a moment before he goes still in Steve’s hands. Steve dips the cloth into the water and lets it drip into Bucky’s hair, carefully tilting Bucky’s head back to keep the water from dripping into his eyes. He does it a few more times before reaching for shampoo and thanks the Lord that it’s a pump bottle or he’d need extra arms. Running it in Bucky’s hair, he’s almost grossed out by the mysterious things embedded in Bucky’s hair (oh god why is it _slimy_ here). In the end, it’s worth it because Bucky lets out a soft noise between a sigh and a hum and Steve dubs it Bucky’s Happy Noise. While Bucky’s not exactly smiling, the stony expression melts away and the muscles in his jaw relax enough that Steve’s teeth don’t hurt just from looking at him anymore. He doesn’t tug too hard at the knots, saving it for the conditioner.

“Buck,” he coos. The soldier’s eyes fly open and he frowns, confused for a moment. “That was alright, wasn’t it?” Steve continue as he detaches the showerhead. He makes sure it’s on the lowest pressure setting. Bucky eyes the thing like it’s personally offended him.

“Do me a favour, and tilt your head back for me?” He asks as he steps into the tub behind Bucky; he feels the water, still nice and warm between his toes. His sweatpants plaster to his legs. “Here, rest your head here,” he encourages and gently nudges Bucky into position. Bucky does, reluctantly, and Steve finds himself looking down into Bucky’s wide open eyes. They’re still the same mesmerizing blue that Steve hasn’t forgotten about. They may be hollow, unfocused, and the bags under them are darker - everything else about them was wrong, but the colour is purely _Bucky._ He can’t help the dumb smile that spreads across his face and Bucky cocks his head slightly. It looks so fucking adorable that Steve has to hold himself back from crushing Bucky in a bear hug right then and there.

“Anyone told you that you’ve got really nice eyes?” Steve asks lightly. He knows he’s a coward, flirting with Bucky shamelessly when he knows that Bucky won’t… Or can't… reject him. It’s a sense of fake confidence, but Bucky blinks and doesn’t say anything and Steve tries not to think about the witty comebacks that Bucky could’ve - _would’ve_ \- said. He finally turns the showerhead on and rinses Bucky’s hair once more. He lathers more shampoo into Bucky’s scalp, rinses and works the conditioner in, fighting with the tangles. It takes quite some time, but Bucky’s hair is mostly free at this point and he goes for another round. This time, he’s gotten all the knots, except for the enormous knot that’s formed on the right side of Bucky’s head for some reason. He might just have to cut it out.

He finally drains the tub so he can wash off the rest of Bucky’s body, telling Bucky to stand. The cloth comes away slightly grey after he finally scrubs all of Bucky (most of Bucky) down, working particularly hard on Bucky’s fingers and hand, dirt and blood caked in the crevasses. He skips a certain amount of flesh between Bucky’s belly button and the top of his thighs, and is grateful no one can see how embarrassed he is. As Steve scrubs the bottoms of Bucky’s feet, there’s no resistance or laughing fit, and Steve remembers that Bucky was definitely ticklish there. It had once been his number one go-to move for revenge on Bucky, and now there’s no response whatsoever. He’s ridiculously upset - it’s another thing they’d taken from Bucky, a part that Steve loved.

Towelling off is easy; he moves closer to Bucky with a giant fluffy white towel and Bucky voluntarily grabs it and gives himself a rough dry. When it’s handed back to Steve, Bucky’s hair is still dripping wet. Steve wondered how Bucky would react to a hair dryer, and after imagining a mini-apocalypse, he smiles and opts to fluff Bucky’s hair a few times before exiting the bathroom to grab Bucky some clean clothes. Bucky fills his white t-shirt just fine, even though the shoulders sag a bit, and the black sweatpants sit comfortably at his waist but he disregards the boxers entirely and Steve’s not sure how he feels about that. His bare feet are pale in comparison to the pants, and now that Steve is studying him in the light, he thinks Bucky could do with a bit more sunlight.

  _One thing at a time._

“How about we take a little rest, huh?” Steve asks, more for his own benefit this time. “Jus’ taking it easy,” he slurs as he drags himself over to his bed.

He’s normally okay without a lot of sleep, but he’s exhausted just from not making sudden movements that Bucky could perceive as threatening and his mind’s been racing to come up with ways to take out HYDRA for good, help Bucky get better and convince SHIELD they should protect him at all costs simultaneously. He sees Bucky standing over him, and oddly enough, he feels safer now than he has in the past few years and his eyes close shut with the image of himself with Bucky at the dance hall, smiling and twirling the night away.  

* * *

 

Decontamination. He hates Decontamination. This one is different though- smaller. The hose is different. Everything is different.

It’s warm instead of freezing - why? The Handler is shuffling about behind him, but he is too focused on the spray of water. The pressure is different, and the nozzle seems… bigger. He retracts his hand as The Handler speaks. He’s just missed an order, he realizes.

“... Can you undress?” Orders confirmed. This, he can do.

“In you go!” The Handler hurriedly rushes him under the stream, and he thinks that The Handler’s voice is too high-pitched. How does he keep his other subjects under control with a voice that reveals so much uncertainty? Come to think of it, he hasn’t seen any of the other subjects. The spray of water on his chest is surprisingly soothing, and he feels the warmth spread. Just as he was enjoying it, The Handler pushes a few buttons and the stream of water stops and comes out of the tap at the bottom instead.

“Sit down.” He does as he’s told, letting the warm water envelop him. Bubbles start to form, and he tries to understand their purpose, but they rise with the soothing water and he feels his body relax at the sensation.

“Bucky?”

“ _Warm.”_ The word escapes his lips before he even realizes it, and he places his arm on the ledge in case he needs to bolt out of the room. Nothing happens, though. He brings his other hand up to his face and marvels at how the water and bubbles feel against his flesh. The static starts again, drowning out The Handler’s voice. _Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt._ He would love to sleep now, but hasn’t been given the command.

“Bucky, is it too hot?” He doesn’t understand why this Handler keeps asking him all these questions. Would it matter if it was too hot? If he said yes, would they turn the heat up even more? He shakes his head, and hopes that this will not be taken as a sign that he can withstand more heat. The temperature is perfect right now.

The Handler doesn’t change the temperature, but he does pick up a cloth and dumps a strong-smelling liquid in. He sniffs to see what it could be. Surely, it couldn’t be dangerous since The Handler’s not wearing any gloves. Slowly, it comes in contact with him, but doesn’t burn. The Handler is… gentle. Against his judgement, he lets his body loosen under The Handler’s ministrations. There’s no sneering or heckling at his scars or body and he feels a sense of peace. For now.

“I’m gonna get your hair a little wet, okay?” He doesn’t know why this would affect him in any way. He tries to think about what this could mean, but his Handler is already working. He’s not alarmed anymore but this Handler’s movements. Dare he say… He’s gotten lucky? This one is gentle, and calm. So far, he hasn’t been hit, shocked, decommissioned or thrown in the Cage. Now, he was getting a break from the noises in his head - his Handler’s fingers were strong as they massaged into his scalp. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, eyes shutting from exhaustion. He doesn’t know how long he was on the brink of sleeping.

“Buck,” came his Handler’s voice. He opens his eyes quickly and takes in their surroundings. His Handler reaches for the Hose again, but before he gets up to bolt, his Handler sits back down on the edge of the tub, and motions for him to join. He lets himself be positioned and the way he’s sitting, he can see right into his Handler’s face. His eyes are kind, unlike the others - soft, and bright. His Handler smiles, which _never_ happens and he’s bewildered by this. He thinks back to a few moments ago. _Steve. His name is Steve._ It’s dangerous to accept that Handlers have names - that makes them more than what he is. Makes them human.

“Anyone told you that you’ve got really nice eyes?” He doesn’t know how to respond, so he does the safe thing and remains silent. Still, his Handler’s voice is not malicious and he lets his Handler continue cleaning him, methodically. He doesn’t resist because the alternative is much less pleasant. He even lets the tugging at his hair slide, thought the feeling brings up something inside him that he can’t quite place. Another memory, within reach, but it’s gone. _Zzzzzzzzzzzt._

When the water is drained, he no longer feels warm and is handed a giant white towel to dry himself off. His Handler takes the towel back and proceeds to run it through his hair - he stays still, and tells himself not to react. He’s given fresh clothing, but no gear.

His Handler seems tired, covering up his yawns like it wouldn’t be noticed. But he notices almost everything. They don’t get very far, and his Handler all but collapses in the bed. How odd.

He feels… something. He hasn’t been given orders, and he could very easily kill his Handler right now. _Why would he just fall asleep like that? I should kill you._

Yet the more he studies this sleeping man, the more reluctant he feels in going through with it. He watches the rise and fall of his sleeping Handler’s chest, the way his lashes fan out against his smooth, pale skin. His lips are slightly parted, a small snoring sound escaping them. His blonde hair is a mess, and some of it in his eyes.

He reaches down - thinks about how easy it would be to strangle him, crush his larynx between the metal of his fingers - and brushes the blonde hair back from Steve’s eyes instead. _Steve._

Perhaps the name does suit him after all.

* * *

 

When he wakes up, he blearily looks around before remembering what had happened previously. He bolts awake, turning to scan the room for Bucky. His heart stops in his throat when he sees Bucky, stationed a few feet from the bed with his fists at his side feet planted solidly on the ground. His eyes flicker between Steve and all the entry points possible for the room.

“Hey, Bucky, it's okay, I'm sorry,” Steve soothes, slowly flipping the covers that he doesn't remember getting under. He swings his legs to the side and raises off the bed. Bucky loosens his fists just a bit but his whole body still screams alert.

“Sorry,” he says again, guilty that he’d left Bucky unattended, possibly tense the whole time he’d been asleep. He pointedly doesn't cramp Bucky's space and keeps close to the bed as he circles the other side.

“Cap, you awake?” Tony’s face appears as a holographic image in the middle of his room. Bucky's eyes widen and he backs up to the nearest wall, poised for defence.

“Yeah, yeah what's up?” Steve says, trying to seem awake and alert.

“Rest of the team is here, common area,” Tony informs him. With that, his face disappears and Bucky's eyes roam the whole room.

Steve tries to explain it to him, not sure if Bucky is following him, but asks his friend to tag along to meet the rest of the team.

* * *

 

Nobody is really sure how it even happens, but they're confused as fuck.

Steve had come into the room, shielding Bucky for as long as possible. He began his speech, which he prepared well in advance, trying to explain how precarious the whole situation was. Before he had even gotten halfway, Bucky had apparently gotten impatient and peeked around Steve.

 **“You…. I knew it was you,”** Natasha’s Russian is sharp and strong, just like her eyes in that moment.

 **“Imposter** ,” Bucky returns in kind. His voice comes out ragged, and it’s the first time Steve has heard his voice in too long.

Natasha had come forward, eyes glued to Bucky and Steve tenses, ready to stop either of them should it get out of hand. Bucky slips around him and before Steve could even shout, Natasha flies at him, legs going for his neck in a way they've all seen a hundred times - the move that took out men triple her size so easily. To their surprise, Bucky’s arm had somehow come up in time before her legs could wrap around, and he had grabbed her wrist so she couldn't swing her weight like she was supposed to.

They paused for a moment, Natasha with her legs hooked to the back of Bucky's head, Bucky holding her weight easily, arm still wedged between the side of his head and her thigh, fingers tightly around her wrist.

“ **It’s me,”** she finally says, muscles relaxing. She would've dropped had Bucky not caught her waist, setting her down gently.

“ **How… You… Impossible.”**

And then they were hugging. Everyone else shot nervous and confused looks at each other for answers before their eyes settle on Steve.

“I have no clue,” Steve lets out.

“I'll explain later,” Natasha promises, eyes still on Bucky, their foreheads resting together.

“Uh, sure?” Clint says uneasily.

There was clearly a story here, a hidden story that they hadn’t shared, even with their closest friends.

* * *

 

It shouldn't be possible, but Natalia is standing right there - her voice is speaking, but the words don't register because _it's her!_ Natalia. Her eyes are just as green, hair still as red but shorter than he remembered. Suddenly, a memory comes flooding in his brain, full and unbroken. Her eyes are looking down at him, arms around his neck and resting on his bare chest. She's tracing her fingers over his skin, which makes him shiver and creating goose bumps. He lets her touch the marred flesh around his shoulder where _the arm_ is attached. She's whispering sweet nothings in his ear and he's telling her that he loves her too. They both know it isn't _love_ in the fullest capacity of the word. Assassins on the run, with just the clothes on their backs and the blood on their hands. He promised he’d tear the world apart for her, and she promised she’d burn it down for him.

She’s not real. She can’t be.

Next thing he knows, she's running at him with the same ferocity he’d seen on missions, and he knows what's coming, _if_ that’s the real Natalia. He braces his legs and prepares for her incoming. Just as expected, he feels her thighs warm and powerful around him, but he smiles to himself because he has her right where he wants her. He can feel her small wrist in his grasp and stills to let her know that he believes her - that she's real and not someone they sent to fuck with his head.  She uncoils and he catches her easily, her weight against his body and she still fits in the space of his chest and arms.

If the world was broken before, he has found a piece to start building from again. He trusts her.

* * *

 “So, what exactly is our plan?” Sam asked, bringing them back.

“First, we eat, then we come up with a solid plan in which nobody dies and HYDRA finally stops existing I mean Jesus Christ what have we been doing,” Tony yaps, herding them all toward the table while he ordered, taking the brochure from Pepper’s hands.

“Yes, hi, I'd like four of everything on the menu please…”

Bucky stands at first, even though everyone has consciously kept the seat between Steve and Natasha unoccupied.

“Bucky? You wanna take a seat?” Steve asks. Bucky’s eyebrows pinch together before looking at Natasha.

“Sit, James,” she says, pointing at the seat beside her. He finally does, but it's reluctantly. Steve can feel the tension roll off Bucky in waves.

“These are our friends,” Steve motions around the table. “You know Tony and Sam and Natasha,” he points. “But this is Bruce, Pepper and Clint. They're here to help too.”

Bucky nods slowly but turns to Natasha. She furrows her brow, but translates it into Russian for him. To everyone’s surprise, Bucky responds without prompting.

“ **Steve… He's not a Handler.”** Natasha barks a laugh but shakes her head.

 **“He's your friend from before, James. Long before we became who we are. Before the war. Remember?”** Bucky closes his eyes, frustrated.

**“Not really.”**

**“He's the man that's been in love with you for over seventy years, James.”** Bucky swivels his head to look at Steve long and hard, and Steve tries not to panic when Bucky's staring at him with the clearest eyes he’s had since this began.  

 **“Love? What could I possibly know of love.”** Natasha merely rolls her eyes at his hissing tone of voice.

**“You and I both know we are capable of things we were told we couldn't be.”**

**“I'm not who he remembers.** **_I_ ** **don't even remember** **_him_ ** **.”**

 **“Trust me,”** Natasha says with a big smile. **“He doesn't care, and you will.”**

Bucky isn't as tense as when he sat down, and Steve considers that a victory. They talk about various things, Natasha whispering to Bucky in Russian, whether to interpret or to have their own conversation, nobody knows. They see Bucky nod every now and then, sometimes his facial expression giving away what he thinks, less guarded now.

When the food arrives, they all have to help the delivery boy downstairs, and he refuses the $100 tip from Tony if he can have Tony's autograph instead. He ends up leaving with all of their autographs, while Bucky busies himself hiding in a corner where he's not completely in the open. When they finally unpack most of it onto their table, it's an overwhelming amount of food and they couldn't be more excited.

“Aw, Buck, you're gonna love this chicken,” Steve starts rambling. “They never had this back in our day, and it's too spicy for me, which means you ought to love it.” He begins scooping some out onto a plate, accompanied by fried rice and a deep fried chicken wing. He adds a spring roll to the plate before placing it in front of Bucky.

Bucky looks at Steve, then looks at Natasha who grins at him. She gestures at the utensils but Bucky stares at them like they've personally offended him.

Steve is glad Natasha is the one who picks up the fork gingerly, gathering a piece of the chicken with it, and lifting it to Bucky's mouth.

“Natalia,” he rasps. “ **I can't.”** She frowns.

**“Try it, for St… For him.”**

Bucky is grateful she doesn't say his name. Ever since she tried to explain to him, he's felt a pressure. There was someone who… cared (?), and it seemed like this was important. The only thing he knew for sure was that he trusted Natalia, wholeheartedly. He parted his lips, but as soon as she placed the chicken in his mouth, his tongue instantly pushed it back out. He winced, jerking away from the table. It was too much - his tongue barely recognized the sensation of tasting food.

“Bucky?” Steve asks, his eyes trained on his friend. He'd instantly gotten up from his seat, Natalia hovering right behind.

He hates the way everyone's eyes focus on him, the tension in their muscles as they squared up. He is positive he could take all of them on, possibly all at the same time. Did they want to fight? He wasn't sure, but his eyes landed on Natalia before he took off, hoping nobody was following.

* * *

 

“James!” Natasha hollered after him. She sighed, facing the team. “I'm going after him.”

“Let me -”

“Stay out of this, Steve,” she snapped. The team reeled slightly at the sharpness of her words, but Clint tried to assure them that it was only because Natasha meant business. Her hair disappeared as she slipped out the door and around a corner and Steve prayed that he made the right call.

“Well… That was interesting,” Tony offered. “Why do you think he's so offended by chili chicken?”

“I… Have a feeling that perhaps he's not used to flavours,” Bruce guessed, staring at the remains. Steve slammed his fist into the table so hard it splintered.

“Dammit all to hell!”  Tony's eyes bugged out of his head while Sam laid a calming hand on Steve's arm.

“I just - Bucky _loved_ trying new foods. When we went to the carnival, they had these spiced peanuts that nobody dared to try and Bucky comes strolling along and has two packs all to himself. This… This isn't Bucky,” Steve chokes. “They took him, took pieces of him-”

“Hey.” Steve felt the warm, heavy hand on his shoulder, which he knew was trembling - with fear, anger, and god knows what else.  They were all silent as Steve tried to calm himself down before Sam finally took his hand back.

“We’ll help,” Sam offers, and Steve feels lighter when he sees Clint’s smile and Bruce’s nod.

“Thank you,” he croaks, because there’s nothing else left in him.

* * *

 

It's another four hours before Natasha returns, alone, and even though they're all itching for answers, the look on her face tells them they needed to be patient. In the years that Steve has known Natasha, he has never seen such a look on her face before.

“I'm going after HYDRA. Every last one of them,” she finally said, with a sharpness in her voice that could cut steel as she plopped down on the nearest couch.

“Get in line,” Tony mutters, gesturing at Steve.

“Natasha, is he okay? Where did he go? Is he coming back?” Steve asks.

“Yes, close by, eventually,” she answers curtly.

“What is it?” Steve pushes. “Natasha - I've never seen him - I've never seen _you_ -” She holds up her hand and shakes her head. Steve sees her jaw clench as she grits her teeth, which means she's extremely uncomfortable (and this doesn't happen often, at all).

“I'm going to tell you all something that will never leave this room, and you will not repeat. Agreed?” They all nod silently. She exhales deeply before she stands up and begins  to pace the room. Her eyes dart around the room, looking anywhere but their faces.

“The Red Room. We all know what it is, we all know that's where I trained. What most people don’t know is that the Red Room wasn't the first of its kind. James and I have met previously.”

Steve narrows his eyes, remembering the conversation they'd had back at the hospital when she claimed the Winter Soldier was just a rumour.

“When he shot you.”

“ _He shot you?!”_ Clint squawked. Natasha threw up her _SILENCE!_ hands again.

“I meant before that, Steve, and no, he wasn't aiming for _me,_ Clint. He shot _through_ me, but that's beside the point.” She glares at Clint before continuing.

“There were others… I think they tried to make other soldiers just like James. The Red Room wanted the same. It came time for us to prove that we were successful… Successful…” She grimaced.

“Copies,” Bruce offers silently. She gave a curt nod.

“They tried to implement the same training routines, punishments, keeping us in solitary confinement, taking away pieces of us…” She breathed deeply. “We were supposed to be mindless soldiers, but it looks like they skipped some steps.” She stopped pacing and stared at Steve.

“You know what they did to James. To his mind.”

“Somewhat,” Steve says. The others probably read all the files available, thanks to Tony and Natasha constantly gathering classified information.

“I was lucky in a lot of instances. I didn't go through that, I was allowed to keep my mind, even if they constantly tried to force ideas into it. The difference was that we were used to manipulate people to do our bidding - we had to perfect the art of seduction, psychological tricks. We had to be smarter than the men we targeted, so they couldn’t take away our minds. Then… They brought our predecessors in. We were assigned to each of the soldiers, and I was listed as one of two assigned to James. I was afraid, that they'd kill me if I proved I was a failure. God, it's still so clear…” Her eyes were distant, recounting her past horrors. Nobody dares to interrupt the first time she'd been so open with her past.

“The first match-up was Niko. Niko Constantin, hell of a fighter, the only male the Red Room had ever trained, before they decided to take little girls. He fought James first, the best fighter from each program...the Wolf Spider against the original Winter Soldier.” She stopped.

“What… happened?” Steve pushes as gently as he could. She laughs bitterly.

“Niko didn't stand a chance. After a short bout, he’d gotten his blood all over the floor and the trainers tried to reel him in, focus him and he went berserk. They couldn't control him, and he kept going after James. He was _feral,_ like he wasn't even human, and James just kept fending him off until our handlers dragged him away to ‘get rid of him’. Nobody ever heard from him again. The next girl, Yelena, fought next. She lost her match to another one of the soldiers. They shot her in the head right then and there.”

Tony exhales loudly while Sam shakes his head, shoulders tense.

“She was the closest thing I had to an ally,” Natasha went on, quieter this time. “It kept going that way. I was the last to fight, as I was the youngest. I was terrified, seeing James take on Niko and Yelena being executed, but I had to fight for my life. I knew from the beginning he went easy on me. Then, he had me in a headlock and I thought I was dead for sure.” She gnawed on her lip, unused to the focused attention on her past.

“But then he whispered in my ear. Told me to stomp on his foot and knee him in the nuts,” she chuckled dryly. “I did what he said, and my training took over. My handler was beside himself with glee, when James submitted, told James he deserved to be executed. I wanted to murder Petrovitch, but the other handlers said James was too valuable. They did something, it crippled his arm and he dropped in pain, but I knew he would live. James came back the next day, and helped me escape. The Red Room fell, Petrovitch, and several KGB higher ups were... assassinated.”

The “assassinated by _us_ ” part was unspoken but they could tell from the wistful look on her face.

“We ran, there were too many of them for just the two of us… all the other black widows had been executed by Petrovich. James saved me. He destroyed the people who tried to turn me into a weapon for their own use, take my life away from me. I will absolutely do the same for him,” she says with conviction.

“I’m coming with you,” Steve volunteers.

“Vengeance is great and all, but we need to look after Bucky first. No doubt there's going to be a lot of people after him right now,” Sam says. Pepper, who'd been graciously quiet, offers to have JARVIS start collecting intelligence while she made them some tea. She'd get in touch with Jane to see where Thor was these days.

“To Bucky,” Pepper raises her mug. Steve smiles, forever grateful for someone as kind as Pepper Potts. Tony kisses her hand before she slips away.

“To Bucky,” they agreed.

 

* * *

 

It was another two hours before there is a sign of Bucky. Clint and Natasha had called it an early night, Sam heading out soon after them. Bruce was snoozing lightly on the couch across from him while Pepper was curled on Tony's lap, eyes closed, on the couch next to him.

Steve fought the urge to turn around when Tony's head snapped up, eyes sort and fixed on a spot above Steve's shoulder.

Steve senses movement behind him and follows Tony's eyes. Bucky comes around, stares at Steve before settling down on the floor, slowly. His back is to the couch, the slight movements in his head indicating he was surveying his surroundings.

“You're welcome to sit down _on_ the couch, you know?” Tony stated. Bucky continues to stare ahead, like he hadn't heard. They all sat in silence once more, as the hours of the night creep by.

 

* * *

 

When Steve opens his eyes again,, his neck protests the sudden movement. He groans inwardly as he straightens out his stuff body, eyes sweeping across the room. Tony is in the same predicament as him, head thrown back over the back of the couch, one arm resting on Pepper still in his lap. Bruce had disappeared in the middle of the night, and Bucky… Bucky is still sitting on the floor, still _awake_ and Steve wonders if he’d even closed his eyes at all.

“Bucky?” he whispers, voice raspy with sleep. The shadowed figure tilts his head slightly to indicate he had heard.

“Don’t you want to get some sleep? Real sleep?” Steve asks. Bucky cocks his head again. Steve lets out a resigned sigh.

“C’mon, follow me,” Steve gestures, as he quietly gets up from the couch and heads toward one of the many kitchens in the tower. His daily routine at the Stark tower isn’t much different than usual, odd hours and all. This time, he notices Bucky’s eyes wander more freely, taking in the details of the tower. Since Tony hadn’t explicitly set aside a room for Bucky, and the medical bay seemed too empty, Steve leads Bucky to his own private rooms. The kitchen is, as always, well stocked.

“At least have some water,” Steve urges, pouring him a glass. “And then you can take the bed, just for a few hours.”

Bucky looks around the room, assessing any threats, before taking the glass. He gulps it down without complaint  before handing the glass back to Steve.

“Sleep,” Steve says, pointing at the bed he’d crashed in earlier. Bucky nods slowly, and crawls in under the covers. He blinks a few times, eyes still scanning the room.

“I’ll stand guard,” Steve offers, to put him at ease. This seems to satisfy Bucky as he slowly let his eyes close. This wasn’t like the previous time in the med bay, Steve notices. He hadn’t snapped his eyes closed like it was an order - he looked like he is finally _resting._

_What did they do to you…_

* * *

 

He’s chewing on a sandwich he’d made for himself when the ping of his Stark phone goes off and he’s surprised to see Natasha initiate a conversation.

Natasha: _Is he okay?_

Steve: _Yes - just sleeping. Had some water, but worried about the food?_

Natasha: _Likely was kept on feeding tubes - will have to wean him off_

Steve: W _HAT???_

Natasha: _Sorry, Steve._

He’s just in the middle of saying “THAT DOESN’T EXPLAIN ANYTHING” when he sees a message pop up.

Natasha added Tony, Bruce, Sam, Clint to the conversation.

Clint: _:D :D_

Sam: _Any updates?_

Natasha: _Just filling Steve in, didn’t want to repeat myself. He was likely on feeding tubes - we can’t shock his system. Will have to wean him off - can you boys handle that?_

Sam: _… Excuse me???_

Clint: _:( :(_

Bruce: _If you think that’s the best option… We can look into it._

Natasha: _He will likely have been starved as punishment, too. So if you don’t hurry up and feed_ _him, he’s going to think he did something wrong._

Sam: _... Again, excuse me????? Wtf!_

 

Tony left the Conversation.

 

Natasha added Tony to the Conversation.

 

Natasha: _You don’t get to run away. Don’t pretend you’re too busy._

Tony: _jfc i’m running a business here_

Steve: _Tony…_

Clint: _ >:( _

Sam: _Nat - anything else we need to know?_

  
Natasha: _Don’t move too fast around him unless you want to get clocked in the head. He still has his training embedded in him. His reactions heavily suggest physical reprimanding. Also, brainwashing was likely._

Bruce: _So he could have psychosis? Potentially on the verge of a mental break?_

Tony: _Oh, btw his arm is a mess and probably has to be removed. Another btw, removing it might kill him._

Sam: _… What the hell?_

Clint: _???????_

Tony: _complicated - will talk at length about it later. When I try to remove it._

Steve: _Tony, please just try to be careful… He’s already doing better, maybe we don’t have to remove it? Just be careful with it?_

Tony: _Either he could die with me trying to remove it or just suddenly drop one day because he bumped into a wall at a wrong angle. Tell me when you’ve made up your mind._

Clint: _I hate to say it Cap - but if we can remove the arm, SHIELD might think he’s less of a threat?_

Tony: _^^^^^ Remove the Hydra part of your boy, and SHIELD might give a chance._

The messages end after that. Steve stares at his phone as if it’s out to get him - it is an impossible choice. How could he possibly give up Bucky like that, knowing he could die on the table? But if they don’t… they leave Hydra attached to Bucky, and one day, it could kill him all the same?

And the feeding tubes - _oh God_ \- Steve doesn’t know how to unpack all this. He looks at Bucky’s sleeping form through the open bedroom door - the covers rising steadily, and thinks about how he wants to let Bucky sleep in peace, for as long as he wants. But mentally calculating it, Bucky hasn’t eaten in over 24 hours and Steve’s stomach twists to think he could be perceived as punishing him. He texts Tony separately to see what they can do about getting Bucky nutrients.

Tony: _bring him down to lab - 3rd floor_

Steve doesn’t ask about the details; he’s learning now that it’s best not to ask, because the answers don’t seem to do him any good. Waking Bucky is easy - he knocks gently on the door and Bucky sits upright immediately, eyes landing on Steve to… _assess_ him.

“I’m just bringing you downstairs… to see Tony. We, um, want to get you some food?” Steve attempts awkwardly. He doesn’t want to force Bucky to do anything - but the way Bucky flinches at the question makes Steve worry even more. He prays Tony’s found a solution.

Bucky swings his legs over the bed, turns his head from side to side to stretch his neck out and rolls his shoulders. He waits for Steve to take the lead, and again follows silently a step behind him, down the hall and into the elevator.

Steve thinks of possible excuses to exit the room if they’re putting tubes down Bucky’s throat. _Should I text Clint to spar, just in case? What if I can’t leave… What if Bucky needs me?_

Unfortunately, the elevators work faster than his brain, and he finds himself in Tony’s lab - a different lab than the first one Bucky was in, but is greeted by Bruce this time.

“Hi Bucky,” he waves softly. Both seem to see the stiffening of Bucky’s shoulders.

“You can have a seat if you’d like,” he continues, hoping to put him at ease. “We’re going to try and get you back to a more normal eating schedule today.” He waves them over to a workbench, filled with beakers and cups. There’s a blender with a green substance still smeared inside. Bucky eyes all of it cautiously.

“The most important thing we want you to know, is that you can stop whenever you want to - and you are in charge. Let us know what you like and don’t like, okay?”

They wait for Bucky to nod, but instead he stares at Bruce, then the bench, and back at Bruce. Bruce, to his credit, nervously fidgets with his glasses in hand, but doesn’t let his voice waver.

“First, let’s just start with some smells… If you don’t react well to a smell, it’s safe to say you probably won’t like the taste too much. We can experiment later on, when you’re more comfortable. Try this one first.” Bruce hands a test tube containing a clear liquid with a slight yellow tinge. He holds it under Bucky’s nose, and mimics wafting the scent to his own nose, hoping Bucky will follow. They watch as Bucky’s nostrils flutter as he inhales deeply, and blinks at the tube. Bruce, upon receiving no verbal response, looks at Steve, who shrugs helplessly.

“Is that okay?” Bruce asks. Bucky shifted his eyes before giving a one-shouldered shrug.

Bruce merely puts the test tube down and tries another one - an orange one this time. Bucky again gives no response. And so it went, test tube after test tube before they reached the last of the seven vials. This time, Bucky didn’t even let the test tube get under his nose before rearing back, and stepping backwards, nostrils flared and eyebrows furrowed. Steve looks to Bruce.

“What was that?”

“Lemon,” Bruce responds, pouring the vial out completely into the trash. “Sorry about that,” he says to Bucky.

“Can we take a break?” Steve asks, already moving towards Bucky.

“Of course. Just give me a few minutes,” Bruce said, already emptying some ingredients into a fresh blender. The whirring of the blender makes Bucky shut his eyes as Steve gently places a hand on his shoulder. He is relieved when Bucky doesn’t pull away. In fact, Bucky is completely focused on Bruce and what he was doing.

“Try this,” Bruce offers Bucky a plastic cup with a smoothie inside. Luckily, they don’t have to coerce him into taking a sip of it. After a moment, Bucky swallows thickly and they await his reaction. Though his face didn’t give anything away, Bucky empties the cup before handing it back to Bruce. Then he looks between them as if waiting for his next orders.

“Was it… good?” Bruce asks. Bucky then studies Bruce silently before backing away from them slowly and bolting toward the elevators.

“Bucky!” Steve starts, but Bruce grabs his arm to stop him from taking off.

“Let him take his time,” Bruce says gently. “JARVIS will keep an eye on him.”

Steve reluctantly concedes.

* * *

 

Bucky bolts back to the chambers, trying to keep his breath even and calm to combat the nausea that is building. He is more confused than ever - his body is reacting one way but he couldn’t get his damned mind to catch up. Not for the first time, he wishes he could rewind the last few decades of his life. His stomach is killing him. Tears pooled in his eyes from the effort of keeping his gag reflex under control. _Bleach. Blood. Bodies._

He takes shaking breaths, grinding the heel of his hands in his eyes as if he could just rub the almost-memory away.

The door creaks, but there are no footsteps so he knows that it is not Steve who came to find him.

“Look at you,” there’s a harsh teasing tone, but Bucky welcomes it.

“I don’t - I can’t figure out what’s wrong with me,” he admits in a crackling voice that doesn’t really belong to him.

“There is nothing wrong with you,” she says venomously. He feels like a lost cause - how could he have been the one to save this woman in front of him? Sometimes he really doubted her stories.

“Sometimes I think you’re lying for fun,” he continues. “I’m no hero. I’m barely a human.” For two people who didn’t quite know what emotions or affection were, they made out pretty well. She sits beside him on the bed close enough that their sides were pressed together. He tries not to think about the cold that would eventually sweep over once she left.

“You’re getting better, James.” Her voice is much softer now, and her gaze drops to the floor. “I know it sounds like bullshit. But I know you’ll be okay. And we’ll help you.”

“But why?” He snapped. “Who are these people, and why are they helping? They don’t owe me a damned thing.”

“Because they’re friends,” she says simply, like it was going to answer all his questions. “They helped me too. No reason. Clint said he saw something in me and convinced them to take me in. That was it.”

“I’m glad,” he responds softer as well. The two of them were so similar. Guarded, feisty. Going soft when they realized the other wasn’t a hostile.

“It’s not impossible, is what I’m trying to say here. They’re going to help you too, if you give them the chance” He hums in response.

“I just wish I could... think. I feel...”

“Don’t, James. Don’t.”

“Why does my body act on its own, why can’t I control my own body, Natalia?”

“One step at a time. First, we get food back into you. You’re like a toothpick.” He scoffs. He certainly is still quite bulky, but he does feel the fatigue in his limbs and the muscles atrophy.

“Once you’re healthy, we start thinking about the next steps.”

“What next steps?” _God, please don’t put him back in the field._

"We clear your name. We get you into SHIELD. We burn HYDRA to the ground.” He blinks owlishly at her. It really couldn’t be that simple. He says as much, and it was her turn to scoff now.

“I didn’t say it would be easy, but we’re going for _not impossible_ right now. You just keep working with Steve, and the rest of us. You’ll see,” she smiles for the first time before getting up from the bed. He misses the warmth instantly.

“Why don’t we spar, just like old times. Bit of fun,” she adds. He can’t muster enough energy for a response so he nods as she slips out from the room and lets his head drop to his hands. The headaches are constant - sometimes they’re sharp, stinging pains and other times it’s a dull background ache, but they’re almost always there. A reminder, that his brain was trying to mend itself, he supposes.

For the first time in what seems like centuries, he shuts his eyes without being ordered to, and welcomes the sensation of sleep.

* * *

 

 

When he wakes, he’s unsure how much time has passed. He rubs the sleep from his eyes, delighted that he hasn’t awoken to shouting, a bucket of ice water, or an electrical charge. Small victories.

Now that he has more energy than he’s used to, he explores. He’s confident that he won’t get caught, and that even if he does get caught, they don’t have a Freezer. Maybe Natalia is right; he’s somewhere… safer than HYDRA. It’s not a high bar.

The hallways are lit sufficiently, but not overly bright, and he looks both ways. He knows the elevator is at the end to his right, so he makes a left. It’s several feet down the hall until he comes upon another door, much like his - Steve’s room - and he assumes it belongs to someone. After that, another door, and another, and then the last one. There’s another elevator at this end of the hall. Five rooms in total on this floor, and none of them have indicators to reveal who stays in them. He presses the elevator button, and a faint whirring sound reveals it’s coming quickly for him. The doors open silently and he steps in. There are dozens of buttons, most of them just the floor number but he notices “Lab 1”, “Lab 2”, “Garage 1”, “Garage 2”, “Gym 1” and “Gym 2”. He ponders for a moment what the use of having two of each of these could be.

He selects Gym 2, the lowest floor possible, and hopes that he can find something he’s familiar with. His body doesn’t feel like it’s in top condition, and he doesn’t want to be caught compromised. Truthfully, he misses sparring; it was what he knew, and he did it well. He thinks back to the conversation with Natalia, and realizes he doesn’t even know how to find her.

The doors open, and as he steps out of the elevator, the lights flicker on one by one to reveal the huge facility. It’s mostly an open floor, with mats along the ground. He assumes this is where Nat spars. One wall is completely lined with mirrors, racks of weights in front and in the corner, hung a well-used punching bag. He is familiar with that, at least. His footsteps echoed in the empty room, fingers tracing the imperfections along the red skin of the bag. An abundance of hand wrap rolls were off to the side, but Bucky didn’t bother. He likes the feeling of his bare knuckles connecting with the fabric. He hesitantly punches the bag once, surprised at the density of it - it barely swung whereas most punching bags would fly off their hooks.

Planting his feet, he assumes a proper stance and begins punching to his heart’s content. He feels the blood rush through his body and the stinging pain of his knuckles rubbed raw against the hide. His training came back to him easily. Fifty punches. Fifty push-ups. Fifty punches. Fifty sit-ups. Repeat. Repeat. Losing track of time was easy, and he only stops when the sweat had started to drip in his eyes. His muscles burn pleasantly as he gulps for air. He feels light-headed and realizes he hasn’t had any nutrition lately. He remembers the vile concoction the doctor had given him, how it brought up painful memories of the Cage. Could he have the other ones without emptying his stomach contents? What other scents out there would throw him into a spiraling memory like that?

The elevator doors open and Bucky instantly stiffens, ready for a fight. It is Sam who walks out, eyes searching the room.

“Hey, Bucky!” he waves cheerfully. “Do you have a second?”

 _Why would he be looking for me?_ Bucky thinks. He nods anyway.

“Could we talk for a bit?” Sam asks once he approaches, handing Bucky a bottle of cold water, which the latter took gratefully. He empties most of the bottle, and Sam chuckles before handing him a second one.

“Come on, I want to show you something,” Sam beckons him back to the elevator. Though still alert, Bucky could tell the other man was calm, and not seeking a fight of any kind. He hits the top button, and began talking.

“I know this is all a lot to take in. Maybe we’re making it even harder by coming at you with all this, every minute of every day. You’ve been through a lot, you know.” Sam steps out of the elevator, and into an empty hallway. There was a sliding glass door, leading out to what Bucky assumed to be the rooftop. Once outside, Sam takes a deep breath and smiles.

“Nothing like some fresh air,” he shrugged at Bucky’s stare. “Now where was I…”

There were lounge chairs set up, looking an awful lot like a movie set-up, but Bucky sat in the one next to Sam’s, two feet from him.

“You’re… There must be so much going through your mind. So many questions. I know I’d have a ton, if I were you. And Steve… I know he’s being a mother hen, but that’s how he gets, even with the rest of us. But you’re pretty special to him, so I’m sorry if he’s been suffocating you.”

“Mother hen?” Bucky cocks his head at Sam. The other man can’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, that’s what we call someone who’s over-protective. Just always watching over you.” Bucky is silent this time.

“I wanna tell you a story,” Sam starts again, his voice gentle and soothing. “I’m sorry if it upsets you in any way, and you can tell me to stop if it gets uncomfortable for you at any point, you understand?” He waits for Bucky’s small nod before he continues.

“After you pulled Steve out of the water, he searched for you. He couldn’t trust a lot of people so he didn't have a lot of resources, but man, I’ve never seen someone that driven. He’s told me a lot of stories about you, y’know? It almost seems unfair, really, that I know so much about you and you don’t really know who I am yet. So I’m going to tell you.”

“My friend - my _best_ friend - Riley, was in the USAF with me. He was a damn good pararescue, I trusted him with my life everyday we were out in the field  Then, I told him everything about me, because I trusted him with my heart too.” There was a heavy silence as Sam closed his eyes, trying to forget the unpleasant memories.

“Then one day it just all went to shit. Shot right out of the sky. I saw him go down right before my eyes, and I couldn’t get to him any faster. I landed next to his broken wings, and it was the scariest thing I’ve ever seen. He was gone, just like that. I can’t even remember the last thing I said to him. I vowed to help Steve find you, because I never want him to go through what I went through when I lost Riley.” Bucky understands the weight of this revelation - it was a weakness. Sam had revealed one of his greatest weaknesses - two of them, even. There was a degree of trust, however misplaced it was, in him. He wasn’t sure what to do with this information.

“Nat… She told us about her time in the Red Room,” he pauses, trying to gauge Bucky’s reaction. Bucky gives no reaction but a small wrinkle of his nose. He was quite good at schooling his features.

“I can’t imagine… the Hell she went through. Or you.”

“It’s in the past,” Bucky responds, finding his voice.

“The past can still hurt you a great deal. I would know - I’ve been there. I also run a support group, for war veterans who can’t escape what they’ve lived through. It hurts people everyday,” he tries to convince the soldier.

“Sometimes, it helps to talk about it,” he presses on. “But only when you’re ready. Other times, it helps to hear other people talk about their experiences. To know you’re not alone.”

“Why are you doing this?” Bucky asks abruptly. Sam considers his next words carefully.

“Because we help people, that’s what we do,” Sam answers confidently. “And yes, Steve may have asked us initially, but we wouldn’t be here if we didn’t want to be. Nat’s your friend, Steve’s your friend, and I’m here to be your friend if you let me.”

“Friend…” The word still seems foreign on his tongue. They sit in silence, but it’s not awkward and look into the night sky. The stars shine, the traffic below is quiet given how high they are, and the night brings a sense of peace to Bucky. He’s always liked the night, cloaking him in shadows as he moved about.

“What now?” He finally asks. Sam gives him a small smile.

“Now we start getting you better. First, are you hungry?” he asks, hoisting himself up from the chair. Bucky doesn’t answer, but he follows suit. He doesn’t know what to make of the fact that everyone is trying to feed him, but he doesn’t need any prompting to follow, and Sam seems pleased enough as they head back inside.

* * *

 

The days get easier for Bucky, but he still feels their curious eyes and knows their voice in the wall keeps tabs on him. It’s not HYDRA, but he still sees the similarities. They may not physically hurt him, but they still come after him, like right now.

“Are you sure there’s nothing more we can do for you?” Sam asks him. He has to pretend like he’s been listening intently this whole time, and he nods.

“So let’s talk about what we can _stop_ doing then,” Sam changes tracks. Bucky panics for just a moment, but reigns his features in.

“What do you mean?” he asks. He’s still on edge, but he’s been testing the waters; testing Sam. Normally, if he asked questions (of if he spoke, really), he’d be punished for it. But not here, never here. So he kept asking, and kept pushing.

“Sometimes, less is more,” Sam starts easy. “You won’t tell me what more we can do, so maybe there’s something less we can do. So tell me, what makes you feel uncomfortable here? Maybe we could stop that, to put you more at ease.”

Bucky appreciates that Sam always stays silent and still when he gives Bucky time to respond. He doesn’t know how to answer this questions. He understands the dynamics of the team better, and feels… almost human again. It’s something. He doesn’t know how to answer Sam’s question.

“You can be honest with, you know. I’m not here to judge. Just tell me what you’re really thinking.”

“I’m thinking… That I don’t know how to answer your question.”

“Do you want us to include Natasha in our sessions again?” Bucky hates that word. Session. He knows that’s what they are but the clinical term makes it seem more like a prison, and less like a “home”. He refused a ton of these sessions until Natalia, because she’ll always be Natalia to him, dragged him in by the ear (metaphorically, of course), and sat him down.

“No,” he says softly.

“Why don’t you try to tell me, in your own words, what you’re thinking of. If it doesn’t directly answer my questions, that’s okay too.” Bucky sighs, and his shoulders drop a bit of tension.

“I feel… like I’m still a prisoner sometimes,” he admits. He’s shocked Sam, he can tell from the way the other man’s eyebrows fly to his forward. He has to fix it, of course.

“Not that I am - I know I’m not,” he recites the words that he practices. He can’t offend his hosts - can’t offend Natalia. “But I’m being watched. Tracked. The only air I get is on the rooftops. The only people who I talk to are you. I’ve forgotten what it feels like to run outside.” He pauses.

“If it means I have to take a mission… I will,” he adds so softly he’s not sure Sam can eve hear. When he looks up, Sam is deep in thought.

“You’re right,” the man agrees. “You’re absolutely right.”

 

* * *

 

Steve watches Bucky spar with Natasha, the only thing he seems to not mind doing in front of the rest of them. He eats alone, sleeps alone, and hides in his room the whole day. Steve hadn’t felt right lurking around since Bucky didn’t exactly keep a regular sleeping schedule, so he took the empty room at the end of the hallway, and let Bucky have his.

“Your boy’s good,” Tony murmured in his ear next to him. He’d just flown back from an undisclosed trip, though Steve knew he was overseas, seeking out a European doctor that specializes in high-risk surgeries. He hadn’t shared any information, so it was unlikely this doctor had a solution for Bucky’s arm. Steve hadn’t asked because he didn’t want to hear the truth.

“Yeah, he is,” Steve agrees. Bucky was never a fighter when they were younger. Sure, he intervened and never backed down from a confrontation but he certainly never sought one out. Bucky, despite his tough talk, had always been a soft soul, kind and caring. HYDRA had been the one to turn him into a killer.

“Natasha’s working on it, you know,” Tony says.

“Working on what?”

“You know what. I think he’s ready to be introduced to SHIELD.” Steve inhales sharply as Tony goes back to the match below. Bruce is monitoring Bucky intently through JARVIS, making notes as he goes. Clint is also watching from his seat, making odd sounds like a low whistle or sharp inhale, like he’s watching a professional UFC match. It feels almost normal, even though it’s still relatively new. A month hadn’t felt like a month. Steve spent most of it looking for Bucky, but he never knew when exactly Bucky left his quarters. He felt wrong using JARVIS to spy on his best friend, though he still caved in and asked every once in a while. Sam assured him that Bucky was doing alright, and admitted to several rooftop conversations. He’d been warned not to go looking for Bucky on the roof. Something about respecting safe spaces, Sam had told him.

The first time he was caught watching Bucky fight, Natasha had landed a hard enough kick to knock Bucky over, and the surprise on both their faces was enough to tell Steve he had interrupted something. He’d been invited to watch the next day, though, so he was sure to take a place on the rafters above, out of everyone’s way. Soon enough, it became a daily activity to watch them spar. Bucky had yet to accept anyone else’s offer.

Steve tries his hardest not to be jealous of his friends. He wants to talk to Bucky like Sam does, train with Bucky like Natasha does. Even Tony slides into his natural ease, all jokes and sarcasm, with Bucky. He doesn’t always get a response, but sometimes Bucky rolls his eyes or snorts at something Tony says, and even that’s enough to make Steve yearn.

Natasha calls it a day, wiping the sweat off her forehead with a towel she’d kept to the side, throwing another at Bucky. Steve could see that he was getting stronger again; his muscles were bulking up again and his complexion was less ghastly. Bruce was doing an amazing job getting Bucky’s diet back on track, and onto solid foods again. Bucky looked healthy, and Steve was happy.

He just missed his friend.

They wait for the two to come up to the rafters, where Bruce can tell them their physical statistics, and advise them of anything they should watch out for. He’d told Bucky once that his blood pressure was too high, which confused everyone, but then they watched Bucky promptly faint just minutes after. Bruce learned to adjust the training limits with his dietary intake more carefully after that. Bucky, apparently, burned through his carbohydrates and fat at a quicker rate than Steve due to the unbalanced serum he’d been given.

“Good work,” Bruce said quietly. Not particularly a fighter, Bruce never commented on their movements or techniques.

“Nat, you’ve got a pretty steady heart rate throughout, which means you’ve increased your stamina levels. There’s a four minute jump…”

Steve tunes Bruce out, focuses on the way Bucky is breathing heavily, arms crossed across his chest as he listens to Bruce. Would SHIELD trust him? Did they have a good enough grasp on Bucky’s recovery?

“...Which brings up the next, and arguably the most important question. Bucky, do you think you’re ready for us to introduce you to SHIELD?” He tried, and failed, to not stare at Bucky like the rest. Bucky’s body visibly tensed, the muscles in his shoulders bunching.

“You can take your time,” Sam offered comfortingly. He stepped closer to Bucky, and reached his hand out to give Bucky’s shoulder a squeeze. It says a lot that Tony’s eyebrows fly up to his forehead and Steve’s eyes widen in surprise. Bucky didn’t even flinch, just gave a small nod. Natasha beams at him, and Bruce gives a reassuring nod. When Bucky turns around, their eyes meet and Steve gives Bucky a smile. Bucky responds in kind, and Steve feels his heart explode. Then, the most beautiful moment happens.

Bucky nods.

"I'm ready."

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I used to write pretty consistently (some of you may know my FrostIron or Thorki works in the past), but when I hit school and a medical condition, I really lost my spark. After that, I was working two jobs and barely had time to cook let alone write. I hung up the keyboard. Since then, I've been reading fics across a bunch of fandoms and when I heard of this Big Bang, I jumped in. I had a huuuuuuuuuge long plot all planned out, but then I lost my job and had to scramble to get a new one, the holidays happened, my sister had her first baby and I got delayed. So, this is what I like to think of as the first half of my original plot. Not wanting to rush it and cram it all in, I've decided to save the later plot points for a sequel instead. 
> 
> Anyway, slowly but surely I am re-branding my blogs since I'm no longer very active in the fandoms I dedicated my blogs too. Hope to see you around <3 Thank you all for any kudos or comments, and the support along the way. It helps more than you know!
> 
> For more lovely artwork, please make sure to visit [bunnymaccool](http://www.bunnymaccool.tumblr.com)! These images came in various forms and shades, what you see is only a fraction of what she can do!


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